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NORA. 


' 


NORA. 

A PLAY. ; 


BY 

HENRY  IBSEN. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  NORWEGIAN 


HENRIETTA  FRANCES  LORD. 


GRIFFITH  AND  FARRAN, 

WEST  CORNER  ST.  PAUL’S  CHURCHYARD,  LONDON. 
E.  P.  DUTTON  AND  CO.,  NEW  YORK, 

1882. 


The  Rights  of  Translation  and  of  Reproduction  are  reserved . 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


! 

! 0 

\P 

\T  Henrik  Ibsen  was  born  in  Norway,  March  20,  1828,  and  lived 
there  until  1864,  when,  in  his  distress  that  Sweden  and  Norway 
would  not  help  Denmark  to  resist  Prussia,  he  wrote  scornful 
epigrams  about  his  fellow-countrymen,  and  since  then  he  has 
not  been  in  Norway.  He  lived  for  some  years  in  Dresden, 
^ since  1878  has  been  chiefly  in  Rome,  but  has  no  settled  home. 

^ Of  his  earlier  works,  Catilina , Eru  Inger , The  Comedy  of  Love, 
P and  above  all,  Rivals  for  the  Crown , 1864,  were  those  that  chiefly 
brought  him  into  notice,  until  in  18 66  Brand  gave  him  a fame 
that  grew  with  Peer  Gynf,  Youth' s Bond , Emperor  and  Galilean 
(translated  by  Miss  C.  Ray:  S.  Tinsley),  The  Pillars  of  Society ; 
1879  Nora  appeared,  and  at  Christmas  1881,  Ghosts. 

He  has  married  a daughter  of  Mrs.  Magdalene  Thoresen,  a 
Norwegian  poetess.  He  has  a small  literary  pension  from  the 
Norwegian  Government,  the  rest  of  his  income  is  derived  from 
\ his  writings. 

His  long  grey  hair  and  whiskers  make  him  look  somewhat  more 
than  fifty.  He  is  short  but  firmly  and  well  built,  so  that  he  looks 
taller  than  he  is.  The  most  characteristic  points  in  his  serious, 
decided  face  are  his  powerful  forehead,  which  is  remarkably 
broad  and  high,  a very  Jupiter’s  brow,  and  his  delicate  mouth; 
it  has  no  lips,  but  shuts  energetically  in  a fine  line,  and  it 
expresses  inexhaustible  will,  as  though  some  giant  resolve  were 
for  ever  being  taken  afresh.  His  small  blue  eyes  almost  dis- 
appear behind  his  spectacles.  His  nose  is  quite  Northern  in  its 
irregularity.  He  speaks  softly,  moves  slowly,  and  rarely  gesticu- 
lates. His  self-command  almost  amounts  to  coldness  ; it  is  but 
the  snow  that  covers  a volcano  of  wild  and  passionate  power. 

The  play  now  given  us  as  Nora  is  called  in  Norwegian  Ett 
Dukkehjem.  To  a public  unused  to  Ibsen’s  surprises,  A Doll's 
House  is  a misleading  title  ; the  German  translator  seems  to  have 
felt  this  too,  and  preferred  to  call  his  translation  of  the  play  Nora . 


VI 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


Whatever  is  written  in  Swedish,  Norwegian,  or  Danish  can  be 
read  without  a translator’s  help  in  Norway,  Sweden,  Denmark, 
and  Finland  ; and,  as  I learnt  during  my  own  residence  in 
Stockholm,  1878-9,  the  cultivated  homes  among  these  ten 
millions  of  people  look  to  Ibsen  as  their  great  teacher.  They 
do  not  always  like  what  he  says,  but  they  let  him  speak  on. 
Such  furious  discussion  did  Nora  rouse  when, the  play  came  out, 
1879-80,  that  many  a social  invitation  given  in  Stockholm 
during  that  winter  bore  the  words,  “You  are  requested  not  to 
mention  Ibsen’s  Doll's  House!"  The  play’s  firm  hold  on  the 
Scandinavian  mind  has  been  strengthened,  rather  than  effaced, 
by  his  Ghosts  (1881)  ; and  how  firm  this  hold  is  a mass  of 
criticism  shows  as  it  continues  to  pour  from  the  press.  In 
a series  of  essays  called  ‘ Questions  of  the  Day  ’ is  Ibsen 
and  the  Marriage  Question,  by  ‘Robinson.’  It  explains  Ibsen’s 
position  in  the  worlds  of  thought  and  literature,  and  in  Scandi- 
navian estimation  so  well,  that  I venture  to  give  much  of  its 
substance. 

Marriage  is  still  an  unsettled  problem.  The  Eastern  poets 
sing  Woman  a slave,  the  Western,  Man  enslaved  by  her. 
But  far-sighted  spirits  like  Dante  reject  both  views,  and  sing 
Ideal  Love,  a thought  too  precious  for  humanity  to  let  it  escape 
when  once  it  reached  human  consciousness.  Yet  it  is  philo- 
sophers and  moralists  whom  Time  leads  to  accept  it,  while  the 
poets,  its  first  leaders,  ignore  the  truth  that  marriage  involves 
human  dignity,  responsibility,  community,  and  mutual  trust.  It 
is  to  making  this  truth  clear  that  Henry  Ibsen  has  devoted  his 
poet’s  gift.  No  sooner  does  a great  and  popular  poet  do  so, 
than  we  see  how  little  woman’s  own  voice  has  been  heard  in 
other  poetry ; and  we  feel  thankful  that  a singer  who  can  make 
himself  gladly  heard  is  singing  of  freedom,  openness,  true  and 
conscious  devotion,  conscience  responsible  to  itself  alike  in  man 
and  woman.  Ibsen  sees  the  world  deluged  by  masculine  quali- 
ties ; he  approves  them  if,  by  devotion  to  a distinct  plan  and  its 
execution,  they  touch  heroism,  otherwise  he  chases  lovers  of  self 
mercilessly  about  with  scorn  or  laughter.  He  sees  womanly 
qualities  hidden,  fled  away,  or  misunderstood.  He  does  not 
construct  some  purely  harmonious  circumstances,  and  show 
Woman  attaining  a seeming  equilibrium,  and  becoming  all  that 
her  nature  is  capable  of.  He  either  shows  her  driven  to  crime 
or  eccentricity  by  cramped  or  misdirected  development  (as  Nora 
was),  or  losing  her  womanliness  by  being  reared  in  a wrong  state 
of  society  (like  Helen  in  Emperor  and  Galilean)  ; or  finally  he 
opens  all  the  great  gates  of  his  poetry  to  noble,  pure-hearted, 
loving,  disappointed  women,  who  move  about  among  reckless 
men  as  the  natural  centres  for  conversion  and  reconciliation,  but 
either  lack  courage  to  seize  the  occasion,  or,  if  they  have  much 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


vii 


courage,  happen  to  have  such  a pig-headed,  one-sided  manhood 
to  deal  with,  that  the  inspired  woman,  the  heavenly  herald  of 
nature  and  conscience,  is  trampled  under  foot,  or  passed  by,  the 
man  regretting  it,  but  when  it  is  too  late. 

Such  are  most  of  Ibsen’s  women.  He  considers  they  are  to 
be  found  everywhere,  a latent  force  whose  accession  humanity 
needs,  and  that  his  task  is  to  release  the  Sleeping  Beauty,  as  the 
prince  did  in  our  childish  fable.  The  thorny  wood  has  grown 
all  i-ound.  Meanwhile,  unwomanliness  flaunts  outside  ; the 
thorns  are  blooming.  Men  dream  away  life  amid  this  injury  to 
womanhood  ; at  any  rate  they  forget  to  break  their  way  in  to 
reality — they  are  ready  for  any  deed  rather  than  that.  Ibsen 
approaches  the  thorn-girt  home  ; he  knows  that  every  expression 
crushes  thousands  of  conventionality’s  roses  ; and  on  his  plain 
but  trusty  sword  are  these  words  only — Love  and  Understand. 
Expanded,  the  words  mean — The  union  between  two  people  is 
only  true  according  as  they  love  and  understand  each  other  in 
thought,  feeling,  and  will,  tasks  of  duty  and  sources  of  joy,  and 
are  consequently  able  to  fight  life’s  battles,  bear  its  pains,  and 
enjoy  its  glory  together ; and  this  by  having  directed,  forwarded, 
and  freed  each  other’s  development. 

Renowned  as  Ibsen  has  long  been,  it  was  Nora  (1879,  during 
a few  months’  journey  round  Europe)  that  procured  him  the  title 
‘Woman’s  Poet,’  because  it  threw  a lightning  flash  over  all  his 
past  writing. 

To  see  Ibsen’s  position  as  a dramatist  we  ought  to  glance 
at  the  history  of  the  stage,  and  especially  at  the  French  stage, 
which  has  influenced  all  other  dramatic  writing  for  the  past  150 
years,  and  then  we  shall  ask  why  Ibsen  passes  by  and  turns  away 
from  something  by  which  Frenchmen  produce  their  greatest  stage 
effects.  That  class  of  women  to  whom  novels  and  plays  have 
been  giving  complete  publicity  year  after  year,  and  who  are  very 
conspicuous  in  the  world,  are  almost  excluded  from  the  great 
Northman’s  works.  While  French  dramatists  and  their  disciples 
are  never  weary  of  depicting  these  beings,  who  have  nothing  of 
woman  but  her  outward  enchantment,  whereby  they  rule  Society’s 
life,  and  are  like  a pest  in  its  midst,  Ibsen  has  worked  out  but 
one  such  figure,  Helen  in  the  Emperor  and  Galilean , and  he 
chastises  her  as  before  him  only  the  world’s  greatest  poets  for  the 
stage  have  dared  to  chastise  her  like.  Through  Ibsen,  as  through 
Shakespeare,  we  get  a striking  impression  that  the  one  absolutely 
unpoetical  thing  in  humanity  is  to  be  born  to  develop  through 
struggle  and  change  into  a human  being,  and  yet  to  will  to  have 
one’s  influence  in  life  only  as  being  a beautiful  animal. 

Other  poets — modern  Frenchmen  and  Swinburne  even  more 
than  they— may  show  by  the  strongest  language  that  they  hold 
this  same  view,  and  how  every  such  woman  exists  but  as  an 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


viii 


injury,  a sort  of  scar  on  humanity’s  living  organism  ; but  all  their 
words  only  increase  her  power,  and  she  knows  this  only  too  well. 

Under  our  existing  social  conditions  Silence  is  the  only  thing 
that  can  possibly  lessen  her  death-bringing  power ; that  people 
should  find  a world-renowned  poet,  who  knows  how  to  touch 
all  the  fine  chords  of  ideality,  and  at  the  same  time  is  wide  awake 
to  all  that  goes  on  around  him,  simply  sets  her  aside,  wholly 
ignores  her,  or  makes  her  a mere  listener,  puts  her  outside  the 
real  action  of  the  poem,  and  in  the  same  position  as  a listless 
and  ignorant  person  occupies  during  brilliant  conversation  among 
intelligent  people,  so  that  the  reader  or  the  onlooker  is  obliged 
to  ask  himself  how  a being  thus  spiritually  defective  could  ever 
have  got  a place  amid  the  awakened  life  of  human  work  and 
human  will. 

Thinking  Frenchmen  seem  to  wish  to  treat  such  women  not 
as  exceptions  to  womanhood,  but  as  characteristic  of  it ; but 
whether  the  woman  be  cunning  or  simple,  coquette  or  prude,  she 
never  arrives  at  any  development  through  the  action  of  the  piece, 
and  there  is  nothing  to  show  whether  she  will  end  in  being  like 
her  surroundings,  or  be  educated  by  life  into  real  womanhood. 
Ibsen,  on  the  contrary,  handles  the  question  of  development 
seriously,  as  being  for  woman  the  question  of  awakening  in  the 
end  to  being  able  to  love  devotedly  and  really. 

It  is  not  only  as  an  idealist  that  Ibsen  knows  this  is  the 
highest  thing ; he  knows  as  a realist,  as  a friend  to  the  modern 
philosophy  of  development  or  ‘ evolution,’  that  every  return  to 
an  earlier  or  ruder  view  of  life,  when  a more  human  one  has 
already  entered  the  general  consciousness,  is  unnatural.  With 
these  two  convictions  he  plans  his  work  and  carries  it  out  ; he 
feels  he  is  the  messenger  of  nature  and  the  spirit,  and  therefore, 
amid  the  moral  anachronisms  in  the  rest  of  European  poetry,  he 
bursts  in  like  a storm  from  the  North  to  clear  the  air.  So  far  as 
he  is  concerned  he  will  contribute  nothing  to  justify  antiquated 
habits  of  thought. 

Ibsen  considers  that  the  womanly  life  that  is  available  for 
dramatic  purposes,  all  the  conditions  for  passionate  action  among 
her  virtues  and  sins,  together  with  the  events  arising  out  of  them, 
are  different  from  what  they  were  in  past  times,  because  the  sort 
of  influence  it  is  now  natural  for  her  to  strive  after  is  different. 

Woman  of  course  exercises  influence  in  all  possible  ways  ; but 
if  it  be  not  that  of  a free  and  loving  being,  it  drags  down,  it  is 
an  influence  of  somnambulism,  death,  and  retrogression,  a return 
to  the  Oriental  idea  of  the  relation  between  the  sexes,  according 
to  which  it  is  a merit  for  her  to  have  no  soul. 

Against  this  now  antiquated,  animal  view,  whether  on  its  re- 
spectable or  its  unrespectable  side,  Ibsen  wages  ceaseless  war, 
and  with  a strategy  that  he  has  devised  for  himself.  At  any 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


IX 


rate  he  has  turned  his  back  on  the  French  method  which  has 
been  so  industriously  copied. 

All  women  who  willingly  or  unwillingly  are  part  of  the  con- 
federacy for  maintaining  the  exclusive  responsibility  of  man’s 
qualities  in  the  world,  all  women  who  thus  consciously  or 
unconsciously  are  foes  to  woman’s  development,  and,  if  they  try 
to  have  influence,  try  to  have  it  in  some  other  and  therefore 
some  unnatural  way,  Ibsen  disposes  of  summarily  : in  Princess 
Helen  and  a few  others.  And  he  considers  he  has  then  got  rid 
of  the  whole  brood. 

But  the  richest  streams  from  the  royal  veins  of  his  poetry  flow 
towards  the  other  women,  who  are  natural,  fresh,  self-deceived  ; 
who  desired  development,  but  did  not  as  a rule  find  circum- 
stances ripe  enough  to  give  it  them  ; who  were  thus  cheated  out 
of  life  ; who  were  alone  in  their  day,  or  even  before  their  day.  He 
considers  that  he  has  a good  opportunity  for  doing  this  even 
when  he  is  handling  the  great  historic  forces  of  the  world,  religious 
and  other  grave  matters  ; his  reason  presumably  being  that  he 
considers  these  great  things  can  never  be  settled  without  one  half 
of  the  human  race. 

It  is,  then,  marriage  in  its  widest  sense,  the  common  work  of 
man  and  woman,  which  is  the  question  of  questions  to  the  great 
poet  ; the  question  that  involves  the  final  untying  of  every  knot 
of  difficulty,  or  at  least  the  question  whether  or  no  we  are  to 
realize  the  idea  of  our  race. 

Nothing  is  justifiable  in  man  or  woman  that  is  one-sided. 
Ibsen’s  plays  show  what  ruin  the  Furies  of  one-sidedness  can 
work  in  the  absence  of  harmonious  understanding  between  man 
and  woman.  Ibsen  views  the  relation  between  the  sexes  as  the 
ultimate  cause  our  reason  can  trace  for  all  the  unloveliness  our 
race  has  inherited.  This  unloveliness  may  have  more  remote 
causes,  and  he  suggests  these  infinite  questions,  but  without 
believing  he  can  get  incontestable  answers  to  them,  as  he  believes 
he  can  about  marriage. 

A reader  who  from  nature  or  teaching  inclines  to  the  Oriental 
view  of  the  sexes,  will  find  Ibsen’s  writings  merely  ‘destructive  ’ 
and  ‘ negative.’  Our  examination  will  lead  us,  however,  to  see 
that  his  poetry  is  more  constructive  and  positive  than  any  other 
of  his  time  ; for  to  say  that  a wrong  relation  between  the  sexes 
is  for  us  human  beings  the  visible  reason  for  all  that  is  unlovely, 
is  the  same  as  saying  that  beauty,  or  the  realizing  the  idea  of  our 
race,  is  much  nearer  to  us,  more  natural,  more  possible,  than  we 
could  otherwise  dare  to  believe. 

The  contempt  for  women  associated  with  Don  Juan’s  name  has 
given  place  to  another  story,  also  a mediaeval  one,  that  of  Venus  and 
Tannhauser,  where  woman  is  the  leader  astray,  and  just  now  this  is 
the  only  story  that  is  applied  in  dramatic  writing.  Possibly  some 


X 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


poets  fancy  that  they  do  woman  honour  thereby,  so  far  as  her  sex 
may  be  said  to  exercise  a sort  of  right  of  chastisement  for  centuries 
of  hampered  development.  The  poison  does  not  consist  in  our 
awakening  to  the  consciousness  that  we  possess  senses  as  well  as 
souls.  That  consciousness  is  exactly  what  a poet  should  rouse 
and  help  to  set  in  order  ; he  is  the  only  person  really  qualified  to 
do  it.  The  poison  consists  in  getting  our  natural  dislike  at  all 
lessened  towards  the  Venus  and  Tannhauser  story,  and  the  repre- 
sentation of  our  nature  underlying  it,  whose  meaning  is  a 
thousand  times  more  lowering  to  all  that  woman  means  in  this 
world  than  any  told  of  Don  Juan.  For  when  that  story  had 
done  its  worst,  it  had  but  expressed  the  dishonour  of  some  one 
woman.  The  Venus  story  disgraces  the  whole  sex,  and  does  it 
through  a woman. 

And  the  most  refined,  surest,  most  weakening  poison  of  all 
consists  in  regarding  such  scenes  as  living  pictures,  where  no 
historical  consequences  of  action  appear,  or  rather  no  conse- 
quences of  any  sort ; but  where  the  events  are  a joke,  and  the 
end  a joke,  and  the  whole  a mere  amusement,  a cannibal  feast, 
where  the  actresses  are  crowned  with  roses. 

There  is  not  a drop  of  this  poison  in  Ibsen’s  poetry.  This 
should  not  be  forgotten  in  reckoning  up  the  essentials  whenever 
his  title  4 Woman’s  Poet  ’ is  in  question,  for  there  is  no  mistaking 
its  meaning  in  an  author  powerful  as  he  is ; it  cannot  arise  from 
any  want  of  power  to  choose  or  manage  material.  It  means 
neither  more  nor  less  than  that  Ibsen  will  not  depict  a woman 
using  power  when  this  power  is  based  on  hampered  development  ; 
he  considers  that  idea  has  had  its  day,  and  must  now  be  consigned 
to  the  tomb,  though  in  all  his  plays  he  allows  for  difference 
of  historical  period,  and  for  individual  strength  or  weakness. 

Ibsen’s  women  are  generally  beings  with  a power  to  accom- 
plish an  entire  and  distinct  task  in  life,  such  women  as,  when 
life  at  any  time  offers  them  a share  in  action,  put  their  mark  on 
it,  in  the  same  way  as  women  like  them  will  when  more  sensible 
manners  shall  prevail  in  the  world,  and  earth’s  face  grow  young 
once  more  with  springs  of  blessing  that  are  now  sealed  up. 
Even  the  wives  who  were  not  their  husbands’  choice,  and  there- 
fore never  had  anything  of  a real  wife’s  lot,  even  the  disappointed 
old  maids  or  the  spoilt  girls,  do  their  best  in  their  distorted 
position  ; when  a moment  for  action  or  liberty  comes  they  show 
that  their  heart  is  still  in  the  right  place,  even  though  it  be  not 
a wholly  fresh,  courageous  heart. 

And  of  the  powerful  women,  who  pioneer  their  own  way,  and 
whose  career  is  easier  to  follow,  because  it  is  more  dramatic,  it 
may  be  said  that  their  very  crime  does  but  show  the  obverse  side 
of  the  devotedness  that  could  have  made  them  thorough  women. 

The  strength  of  Ibsen’s  drawing  of  men’s  character  has  never 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


xi 


been  questioned  ; men  recognize  past  times  and  themselves  through 
them  ; nor  can  these  impressions  ever  be  forgotten.  But  these 
chiefly  negative  representations  are  not  his  most  beautiful.  His 
most  beautiful  things  are  his  positive  pictures  of  womanhood, 
and  they  only  are  (like  Shakespeare’s)  clearly  marked  and 
completely  carried  out.  The  friendly  hopeful  light  they  shed 
only  strikes  our  eyes,  perhaps,  when  thrown  into  a strong  contrast 
with  the  view  man  has  hitherto  held  as  to  the  position  of  the 
sexes.  The  poet  has  cut  his  way  right  through  the  thorny  wood 
to  the  dwelling  where  womanliness  is  to  be  found.  After  that 
it  depends  upon  each  man  whether  he  will  follow  the  path  and 
try  to  raise  the  newly-roused  woman  to  full  consciousness. 

The  end  of  the  story  of  the  sleeping  wood  Ibsen  leaves  to 
the  reader.  How  he  has  carried  it  out  we  know  now,  and  how 
his  own  way  is  to  show  woman  respect  by  his  poetry  ; how 
cautious,  how  intensely  modest  he  is,  how  manly  his  honesty  is, 
how  artistically  chaste,  how  free  from  all  sentimentality,  all  flowery 
language,  all  patronizing  approval.  Ibsen’s  method  is  not  to  get  a 
chorus,  but  to  secure  silence  and  transparent  air  round  his  object. 
He  waits,  like  a believer,  rather  to  get  to  know  something  than  get 
to  say  something,  when  by  one  great  poem  after  another  he  care- 
fully opens  the  way  to  the  fresh  new  forces  in.  humanity  : Woman. 

Ibsen  considers  that  it  is  from  man’s  side  that  the  greatest 
hindrances  come  to  the  realization  of  marriage  on  earth — unity, 
positive  purity,  complete  oneness  of  life  and  work  between  man 
and  woman  ; but  that  woman  increases  man’s  difficulties  in  getting 
into  the  right  way,  because  she  does  not  understand  his  temptations, 
and  has  not  learnt  to  cherish  a noble  respect  for  his  fight. 

Man  has  inherited  more  than  woman  has  of  the  disordered 
instincts  that  result  from  all  false  marriage  in  countless  previous 
generations.  The  physical  and  spiritual  laws  are  yet  unknown 
which  enable  heredity  to  give  this  different  stamp  to  the  two 
sexes,  and  thus  a great  difference  in  the  difficulties  of  life’s 
problems.  How  the  matter  actually  stands  is,  on  the  contrary, 
plain  to  every  one,  and  also  that  even  the  womanly  woman 
will  contribute  to  man’s  fall  while  our  present  social  ideas  are  in 
force.  She  does  it  from  want  of  courage.  But  the  results  of  an 
action  may  be  equally  great  whether  it  was  intentional  or  uncon- 
scious. The  momentary  unconscious  crime  is  often  a result  of 
our  not  being  developed  enough  to  face  the  task  we  shrink  from. 
Whole  hosts  of  such  actions  or  omissions  file  through  the  world 
in  silent  darkness  ; and  people  who  prefer  that  man  should 
be  left  in  his  undeveloped  condition  take  pious  comfort  from 
thinking  that  these  evils  arise  without  any  blame  to  the  person 
who  set  them  going.  If  only  no  one  can  be  made  personally 
responsible  as  the  cause,  they  think  the  evils  can  be  borne  with 
meekness,  and  they  accustom  themselves  to  calling  them  ‘ natural  ’ 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


xii 


evils.  No  small  part  of  the  poet’s  task  is  to  rouse  men  from  this 
opiate  comfort.  He  does  it  not  by  denying  the  existence  of 
these  evils,  but  by  painting  them  in  all  their  far-reaching  conse- 
quences, and  making  all  men  collectively  responsible  for  them. 
The  poet,  like  the  thinker,  does  not  consider  that  it  is  a part  of 
the  world’s  scheme  that  it  is  out  of  evil  good  should  arise,  but 
knows  that  it  is  we  ourselves  who  futilize  our  common  life,  and 
therefore  he  regards  it  as  no  crime  to  disturb  us  in  our  sleepy 
or  pious  disregard  of  bad  conditions  and  false  views  of  life.  He 
sees  that  the  struggle  against  evil  is  quite  serious  enough  without 
our  refusing  our  support  to  good  by  retaining  habits  that  uncon- 
sciously and  irresponsibly  work  evil.  He  believes,  in  short,  that 
the  full  development  of  all  healthy  forces  can  only  lead  to  good. 

The  trivial  social  view  against  which  Ibsen  protests  is,  that  for 
two  to  become  one  and  blessed  is  a mere  dream,  but  that  marriage 
is  something  practical ; that  while  parents  alone  chose  for  their 
children,  marriage  was  on  too  narrow  a basis,  but  that  the  happy 
mean  has  been  found  now  the  approval  of  all  relatives  and  friends 
is  sought.  Against  all  such  shallowness  and  cynicism  Ibsen 
protests  that  human  passions  cannot  be  controlled  by  locks  or  by 
opiates,  and  that  the  only  possible  help  is  for  passion  and  duty 
to  go  the  same  way. 

There  are  two  ways  of  working  for  reform  : the  politician 
waits  and  steers  his  course,  the  poet  compromises  nothing.  To 
illustrate  these  two  ways  let  us  take  an  example  from  the  physical 
world. 

Human  beauty  is  an  exception,  whereas  it  should  be  the  rule. 
People  set  to  work  to  attack  wrong  clothing  and  food,  bad  habits 
at  home  and  at  school.  Doubtless  all  this  is  in  the  right  direction, 
and  some  are  convinced.  But  one  day,  by  accident,  one  of  those 
who  have  listened  and  assented  opens  a book  of  engravings  from 
Greek  sculpture,  and  seeing  perfect  beauty,  he  learns  more  from 
that  single  glance  than  from  all  the  indirect  working  of  sanitary 
teaching.  He  has  seen  what  beauty  looks  like. 

The  poet’s  work  gives  a similar  discovery  of  inner  beauty  or 
moral  life.  Some  of  the  clearest  light  Ibsen  has  so  far  shed  on 
marriage  we  get  from  Nora.  The  problem  is  set  in  its  purest 
form  ; no  unfavourable  circumstances  hinder  the  working  out  of 
marriage  ; nor  does  the  temper  of  Nora  or  Helmer ; both  are 
well  fitted  for  married  life,  and  everything  points  to  their  being 
naturally  suited  to  each  other.  The  hindrance  lies  exclusively 
in  the  application  of  a false  view  of  life,  or — if  some  insist  it  once 
contained  truth — a view  that  Western  peoples  have  out-lived. 
When  Helmer  said  he  would  work  night  and  day  for  his  wife,  his 
were  no  empty  words.  He  had  done  it,  he  meant  to  do  it  ; he 
had  been  faithfully  working  for  eight  years,  and  there  is  no  sign 
that  he  meant  to  cease.  His  happiness  lay  in  Nora’s  being 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


xiii 


unruffled.  Nor  would  he  dream  of  curtailing  what  he  considers 
her  wife’s  freedom,  i.  e.  the  happy  play  of  her  imagination.  He 
would  deprive  her  but  of  one  thing — reality.  How  could  he 
claim  to  be  a “ real  man,”  he  would  say,  if  he  gave  it  to  her? 
And  he  so  far  succeeds  in  unfitting  her  for  action,  that  when  she 
takes  upon  herself  to  meddle  in  realities,  she  immediately 
commits  a crime.  He  gives  her  everything  but  his  confidence  ; 
not  because  he  has  anything  to  conceal,  but  because  she  is  a 
woman. 

Thousands  who  adhere  to  society’s  usual  view  of  a right  life 
between  man  and  woman,  express  it  by  saying  their  home  is 
“like  a doll’s  house  ” ; others,  more  serious,  mean  that  they  are 
glad  to  see  a woman  cosy  and  comfortable  in  this  hard  world. 
Some  express  disapproval  by  saying,  “ Helmer  went  too  far  ; if 
he  had  given  Nora  a cookery-book  instead  of  a tambourine  all 
would  have  been  well.”  Others  say,  “If  Nora  had  but  had  a 
nice  ordinary  woman  for  her  friend  instead  of  that  knitting  book- 
keeper, Mrs.  Linden,  all  would  have  gone  smoothly,  even  the 
loan  from  Dr.  Rank,  which  a little  tact  would  have  turned  into 
a charming  concluding  scene.” 

The  only  reply  to  all  these  is  to  ask  them  to  read  Nora  through 
carefully  once  more,  when  they  will  see  for  themselves  all  the 
conditions  for  a moral  marriage  laid  down.  They  may  be 
summed  up  in  the  one  word,  Love.  But  at  present  Love  is  an  idea 
to  which  no  clear  meaning  attaches.  Love  presumes  youth  as  a 
rule,  but  is  not  the  same  thing  as  youth,  or  even  as  youth  with 
warm  and  mutual  liking  into  the  bargain.  Youth  is  a glorious 
thing,  but  it  has  its  own  dangers,  and  the  chief  of  them  is  self- 
deception.  It  is  only  too  easy  for  two  young  people  to  rock 
themselves  in  dreams  of  bliss  without  real  love,  in  which  case  all 
relation  between  them  is  according  to  Western  notions  immoral, 
a point  to  which  marriage  makes  no  difference  whatever.  Love 
is  confidence;  and  Mrs.  Linden  and  Krogstad,  shipwrecked  folks 
as  they  were,  had  better  prospects  of  it  in  their  union  than  Nora 
and  Helmer  had,  because  they  meant  to  live  in  future  with  mutual 
understanding.  For  marriage  is  really  a state  of  being  awake  to 
life  and  activity  ; at  least  nine-tenths  of  it  is  active  ; and  every 
piece  of  activity  either  mate  excludes  the  other  from  is  a piece 
of  robbery  from  the  marriage  winnings  or  the  mutual  development 
marriage  is  intended  to  bring  about  for  both,  and  therefore  for 
humanity,  quite  apart  from  whether  the  activity  itself  fails  or 
succeeds.  It  will  generally  be  found  that  those  who  dislike 
Nora  are  those  whose  view  of  marriage  the  play  utterly  destroys  ; 
while  those  who  like  the  play  are  those  who,  with  Ibsen  himself, 
would  rejoice  with  all  their  hearts  to  see  that  past  ideal  of 
marriage  crushed,  against  which  every  word  in  Nora  quietly 
strikes  a certain  death-blow. 


xiv  LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


If  you  lose  sight  of  the  play’s  great  human  interest  you  come 
to  petty  considerations,  such  as  whether  Nora  had  a really  large 
nature  and  Helmer  a stupid  one,  or  that  Ibsen  means  very  little 
in  it  after  all,  or  as  to  the  effect  it  is  likely  to  have  in  making 
foolish  young  people  neglect  their  duties  and  turn  from  Chris- 
tianity to  Nihilism. 

A poetical  work  reveals  an  idea,  a truth  that  has  a perfect 
right  to  its  place  among  the  truths  of  the  world ; a truth  that  is 
so  permanent  and  indestructible,  that  if  the  time  has  come  for 
that  truth,  it  cannot  be  injured  by  neglect,  or  evaded  or  turned 
aside,  though  he  who  attempts  to  injure  it  may  thereby  injure 
and  destroy  himself.  A perfect  poem  sets  forth  an  idea  perfectly. 
Either  Nora  is  not  a poetical  work,  or  at  any  rate  not  a perfect 
one,  or  else  by  means  of  the  idea  it  sets  forth  it  is  perfectly  easy 
to  find  our  way  into  every  corner  of  the  play,  and  get  a clearer 
and  deeper  knowledge  of  it  than  would  be  possible  from,  e.  g.,  an 
historical  essay.  On  the  other  hand,  with  anything  less  than  this 
idea  it  is  impossible  to  do  justice  to  the  play  as  a whole,  or  to 
any  of  its  organic  parts. 

The  idea  in  Nora  is  : the  object  of  marriage  is  to  make  each 
human  personality  free.  However  incontrovertible  this  may  be 
when  laid  down  as  an  axiom,  does  that  confer  the  power  of  giving 
it  expression  in  real  life,  steering  one’s  way  among  all  the  diffi- 
culties of  deceit,  inexperience,  etc.  ? Doubtless  not ; but  the 
poet’s  work  tells  us,  until  the  relation  between  man  and  woman 
turns  in  this  direction,  the  relation  is  not  yet  Love.  This  is  the 
idea  in  Nora , freed  from  all  side  issues,  and  no  other  key  will 
unlock  it. 

It  is  of  course  possible  to  find  one’s  way  through  schematic 
plays,  products  of  a weaker  time  than  ours,  without  grasping  the 
main  idea.  But  in  our  realistic  art,  when  people  speak  the 
language  of  their  own  passions  and  prejudices,  we  could  never 
reach  the  main  idea  through  the  various  details,  in  so  many  ways 
may  an  individual  utterance  be  taken.  The  poet  does  not 
create  ideas,  as  a rule  he  can  hardly  be  said  to  discover  them  ; 
in  most  cases  they  have  already  become  human  property,  as 
it  were,  amongst  a few  of  his  most  thoughtful  and  cultured 
contemporaries.  But  it  is  the  poet’s  art  that  brings  them  to 
light;  he  communicates  them  to  millions.  What  is  new  seems 
dumb  while  its  spokesmen  are  the  philosophers,  statesmen, 
priests,  moralists,  critics,  sociologists,  or  publicists.  It  is  as 
though  unsaid  till  the  poet  says  it ; when  he  has  spoken 
humanity  has  spoken  ; the  thought  is  born  on  the  lips  of  all,  and 
it  is  for  the  simple  reason  that  he  cannot  give  it  complete  utter- 
ance until  the  hour  has  struck,  and  humanity  has  got  so  far  that 
the  new  thing  is  said  from  necessity. 

Some  people  consider  that  Nora  shows  the  exaggeration  of 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


xv 


genius,  and  not  the  beautiful  balanced  revelation  of  a newly- 
reached  awakenedness  in  our  moral  conscience  ; others  admit  that 
the  Oriental  ideal  of  marriage  must  be  given  up,  but  ask  why  Nora 
ends  with  a breaking  off,  and  not  a warning?  Nora’s  own  words 
to  Helmer  give  the  answer  ; but  she  speaks  so  like  and  so  unlike 
the  old  morally  unconscious  being  whose  development  we  have 
been  following  step  by  step,  that  we  are  unwilling  to  recognize  her 
words  in  their  full  meaning.  Perhaps  it  could  be  philosophically 
demonstrated  that  to  say  this  does  her  great  injustice,  the  same 
injustice  that  she  complains  her  father  and  husband  did  her  : no 
one  will  ever  begin  to  treat  her  as  a human  being,  no  one  shows 
honourable  and  real  respect  for  her  own  responsibility,  and  she 
has  the  same  right  to  it  as  a man  has.  Perhaps  all  this  could  be 
proved,  but  feeling  is  only  convinced  by  feeling  or  by  reality. 

Let  us  then  construct  another  ending  to  Nora.  Let  us  suppose 
that  the  doll’s  house  does  not  fall  to  pieces,  but  that  Helmer 
keeps  his  old  delusion  as  to  Nora’s  being  a weak  creature.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  he  would  act  exactly  as  he  spoke ; he  would 
forgive  her,  and,  since  the  time  for  education  had  begun,  he 
would  be  a most  careful  schoolmaster.  Nora  would  take  no 
step  without  his  help ; she  would  be  just  as  much  tied  and  bound 
as  before,  with  no  will  or  conscience  of  her  own. 

He  says,  “I  have  power  to  become  another  man.”  She 
replies,  “Yes,  when  your  doll  is  taken  from  you.”  She  is 
probably  right ; but  it  is  certain  that  unless  it  happens,  this 
loving  husband,  the  faithful,  and,  as  some  would  say,  the 
‘morally’  loving  man,  will  never  change,  never  for  a moment 
come  near  guessing  what  morality  in  love  really  is  : the  effort 
to  make  the  beloved  one  free,  awakened,  responsible,  true,  pure- 
hearted,  noble,  and  strong,  instead  of  enslaving  and  making  the 
beloved  dependent,  irresponsible,  double,  needing  help,  slavish- 
minded,  and  clinging.  Helmer,  who  has  such  an  intense  wish 
to  be  a patron,  and  has  such  an  artificially  developed  gift  for 
patronizing,  must  continue  to  believe  he  possesses  at  least  one 
being  destined  for  liberty,  conscientious  life,  and  personality  as 
his  private  slave,  who  is  favoured  by  partiality,  and  shielded 
wisely,  tenderly,  and  chivalrously.  He  will  be  sure  to  go  on  in 
the  belief  that  there  is  at  least  one  fellow-creature  who  has  no 
will  but  his,  even  if  outside  home’s  shelter  he  is  often  tried,  as  he 
probably  will  be,  by  painful  miscalculation  in  such  matters  ; e.g. 
if  the  Bank  staff  were  to  be  ungrateful  for  his  fostering  care  of 
them,  and  his  humane  attempt  to  absorb  their  personality  in  his 
own.  The  “ doll,”  the  dream-creature  to  whom  he  gave  Nora’s 
shape,  is  not  to  be  taken  from  him  ; he  is  to  be  able  to  go  on 
hugging  that  untrue  view  of  half- humanity  to  his  broad  breast 
just  as  a child  hugs  its  doll.  He  is  to  suffer  much,  because  he  is 
an  intelligent  and  sensitive  man,  but  he  is  not  to  suffer  in  that 


XVI 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


way  by  having  his  eyes  opened  to  what  Nora  is  : Woman,  or 
the  woman  who  should  have  been  the  angel  of  freedom  to  him. 

But  if  this  constructed  ending  to  the  play  be  rejected,  surely  a 
happy  one  of  some  sort  could  be  found  ? A novelist’s  mouth 
must  be  watering  to  make  Helmer  lose  his  money, — e.  g.  by 
Krogstad  working  him  out  of  the  Bank, — and  then  Nora  is  to 
work  for  him  and  win  his  love.  But  we  know  that  Nora  has  not 
this  sort  of  ascendancy  in  development,  nor  can  have  wilh  the 
education  life  has  so  far  given  her.  Torvald’s  illness  did  not 
reveal  them  to  each  other,  nor  did  eight  years’  struggle  with 
poverty.  Ibsen  has  intentionally  barred  that  outlet  for  us.  The 
struggle  would  only  set  Nora’s  energy  in  motion,  till  she  found 
it  was  praised  like  a good  child’s  task,  but  not  with  respect, 
not  with  humanity’s  charter  of  freedom — open,  high-minded, 
devoted  trust.  When  she  saw-  that  that  “ miracle  ” did  not  come 
she  would  grow  weary.  And  garlanded  slavery  under  poverty’s 
roof  would  be  no  better,  but  rather  worse,  than  it  was  under  the 
roof  of  prosperity. 

In  all  trials  common  to  both  Helmer  would  do  his  duty, 
preserve  his  equilibrium,  and  remain  just  what  he  always  was. 
For  he  is  a ‘ gentleman  ’ ; let  us  give  him  full  credit  for  that  ; but 
he  is  not  a real  man,  and  years  would  but  mark  this  more  clearly. 
His  principles  would  dry  up  into  mere  maxims,  his'duty,  honour, 
taste,  and  judgment  into  routine,  till  he  ended  in  being  one  of 
those  faultless  persons  whom  no  one  would  dream  of  exchanging 
ideas  with  on  any  subject,  great  or  small,  but  who,  on  the  contrary, 
are  listened  to  by  tacit  understanding  with  a respectful  smile 
when  they  are  so  obliging  as  to  communicate  any  view  they 
happen  to  hold. 

Some  are  ready  to  agree,  “We  never  were  deeply  imbued 
with  belief  in  Mr.  Helmer’s  ideality ; but  why  did  Nora  run 
away  in  such  haste?  We  cannot  see  that  she  gained  anything, 
poor  creature,  or,  that  her  little  children  did  by  losing  her  motherly 
care.”  Let  us  see  if  we  can  justify  the  mistake  with  which  they 
thus  charge  Ibsen.  Their  words  imply  that  the  story  of  the 
forgery,  the  agony  of  mind  during  Christmas  week,  the  explan- 
ation between  husband  and  wife,  were  a mere  accidental  dis- 
turbance, that  in  a week  it  would  all  be  forgotten,  as  Helmer 
says,  and  buried  in  a month  or  two.  At  first,  no  doubt,  Nora 
would  be  merrier  and  more  docile  than  ever,  and  Helmer  fonler 
of  his  wife  than  even  in  the  days  when  their  home-life  first  began. 
But  as  the  weeks  went  by  Nora  would  be  neither  her  present 
nor  her  former  self.  As  the  memory  of  the  great  day  faded,  a 
nervousness  would  creep  over  her  such  as  Helmer  never  dreamt  of. 
Either  she  would  ask  his  opinion  every  other  minute,  evidently 
to  get  rid  of  some  secret  restlessness,  or,  without  asking  it,  she 
would  be  found  undertaking  things  that  in  the  old  days  it  would 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


XVII 


never  have  occurred  to  her  to  attempt  alone.  And  if  Helmer  did 
not  answer  her  questions  she  would  cry,  and  if  he  quietly  expressed 
his  surprise  at  his  wife’s  taking  her  own  course,  she  would  break 
out  into  wounding  assertions,  always  ending  with  the  one  that 
decided  him  to  despatch  Krogstad’s  dismissal : that  he  is  petty. 

Helmer  would  now  begin  to  find  it  is  high  time  to  fulfil  his 
promise  of  leaving  the  stage  of  play,  and  devoting  himself  to 
that  of  education.  He  adds  that  occupation  to  all  his  others  in 
an  orderly  way,  and  with  the  great  power  of  getting  through 
work  that  we  know  him  to  possess.  He  would  try  first  one 
thing  and  then  another.  That  Mrs.  Krogstad  is  not  the  most 
suitable  companion  for  Nora  would  be  his  earliest  discovery  in 
his  work  of  reformation.  Result  : Nora  sometimes  really  avoids 
Christina,  at  others — as  often  as  possible — contrives  to  meet  her 
without  Torvald’s  knowing  it.  She  wants  to  tell  her  daily  hopes 
and  troubles  to  the  industrious,  sympathetic  woman  who  was  her 
friend  in  childhood,  and  all  the  time  contrives  to  appear  to  her 
husband  as  desiring  no  society  but  his.  The  attempt  to  be  Will 
and  Conscience  to  another  shows  its  usual  results  : deception, 
hypocrisy,  crooked  ways,  duplicity,  loss  of  trust,  absence  of  ease, 
joy,  and  healthiness  in  daily  intercourse,  and  a habit  of  covering 
the  abyss  with  artificial  liveliness  that  seems  to  have  taken  root 
very  quickly. 

Let  us  suppose,  however,  that  Helmer  makes  himself  into  a 
domestic  school  inspector  of  Nora’s  ways  with  the  children,  and 
points  out  that  if  she  is  to  do  her  duty  by  them  and  have  time 
for  him  too,  she  must  shop  less  and  spend  less  time  with  her 
dressmaker.  Nora  would  try  ; but  some  day  or  other  in  the 
middle  of  one  of  his  nursery  inspections,  questions  would  burst 
from  her  lips  such  as,  What  is  skill  with  children  ? How  much 
‘ self-control  ’ and  ‘ method  ’ is  to  be  expected  from  them  without 
sacrificing  their  individuality?  and,  What  things  ought  one  to 
pretend  not  to  see  ? 

Helmer  wonders  when  his  discoveries  in  this  strange  woman’s 
nature  will  come  to  an  end,  and  where  she  can  have  got  this 
new  barrier  from  that  hinders  husband  and  wife  from  their 
common  work. 

Such  signs  of  self-guidance  touch  the  most  sensitive  point  in 
his  view  of  life,  as  they  always  have  done.  We  can  hear  him 
say,  as  he  did  once  before,  “ Now  we’ll  put  an  end  to  this  once 
and  for  all.” 

He  is  not  eager  about  it ; he  wishes  to  spare  her  so  far  as 
possible.  He  says  little  ; but  what  he  does  say  so  oppresses 
Nora  that  she  loses  what  little  pleasure  she  ever  took  in  the 
development  of  Ivar,  Bob,  and  Emmy.  But  when  a person  like 
Nora  once  gets  frightened  there  is  an  element  of  rebellion  in  it ; 
feeling  in  the  dark  as  she  is  after  self-dependence,  when  she  may 

b 


xviii  LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


not  create  something  she  must  at  least  destroy.  So  at  one  time 
she  is  cold  and  dull  with  the  children,  at  another  she  spoils  them, 
and  fills  their  heads  with  the  idea  they  “ must  not  tell  papa.” 
The  new  dominion  over  her  Conscience  and  Will  has  only  led 
her  to  fresh  lies  ; it  has  only  dragged  her  deeper  into  the  mud, 
and  this  time  it  is  the  children’s  turn  to  go  with  her  and  get 
soiled.  Thus  Boredom  will  settle  down  on  that  home  as  on 
thousands  of  other  homes.  But  that  was  not  the  air  that  was 
wafted  towards  us  when  the  curtain  first  rose.  The  air  was 
restless  perhaps,  but  one  felt  there  were  possibilities. 

Is  Helmer  a bad  man,  then  ; coarse,  dilatory,  or  boisterous 
and  domineering  at  times?  No,  he  is  quoted  everywhere  as  a 
model  husband,  and  not  without  reason.  He  is  merely  colour- 
blind in  one  direction,  educated  into  colour-blindness. 

One  thing  is  certain,  that  amid  all  this  new  order  of  things  he 
yearns  for  the  lark  and  the  squirrel,  the  careless  gaiety  of  the 
Nora  that  used  to  be,  and  that  is  sometimes  now  when  she 
makes  an  effort.  Then  it  strikes  him  that  it  is  unnatural  to  shut 
up  a young  and  beautiful  woman  ; so  he  takes  her  into  society 
to  obliterate  the  past  that  perhaps  preys  on  her  mind,  and  to 
“draw  out  the  child  in  her  nature.”  For  wise  men  think  a 
woman  never  grows,  or  that  it  is  happier  for  her  not  to  grow, 
and  that  she  can  be  stunted  in  her  growth,  as  it  used  to  be 
thought  puppies  could  by  brandy. 

A glance  around  us  shows  us  many  women  arrested  thus,  many 
rich  young  souls  prevented  from  ever  becoming  real  women. 
It  is  a social  murder  whose  results  are  most  disastrous  for  human 
destiny.  It  means  that  homes  can  get  amiable  hostesses  without 
husbands  getting  loving  wives,  or  children  loving  mothers.  Will 
this  succeed  in  Nora’s  case?  She  is  not  a doll,  but  will  Society’s 
stupefying  agencies  make  her  into  one — a model  doll,  a splendid 
example  of  self-satisfied,  undeveloped  humanity,  who  will  be 
described  as  perfectly  comme  il  faut  ? 

Readers  who  desire  this  say,  “We  cannot  see  into  each  others’ 
hearts,  and  Nora’s  inner  life  may  be  anything  she  pleases  ; but 
a well-bred  woman  should  always  seem  at  ease,  and  make  it 
possible  for  us  to  have  dealings  with  her.”  Nora  will  never 
come  up  to  their  expectations.  There  is  something  untamed  in 
her  that  will  make  her  sin  continually  against  worldly  rules.  She 
might  dress  as  becomingly  as  any  one,  but  there  her  likeness  to 
others  would  end.  She  does  not  belong  to  the  class  of  women 
whose  two  sections  are  the  coquette  and  the  prude,  both  being 
the  Doll  grown  to  full  stature.  Such  women  are  her  only 
enemies.  They  can  lay  aside  conscience  and  ideality  without 
loss  of  charm,  they  can  never  be  free  nor  make  others  free,  never 
love.  They  point  in  the  opposite  direction — to  rule  and  be  ruled  ; 
they  use  freedom’s  means  in  the  service  of  slavery.  It  is  useless 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


xix 


to  expect  this  of  Nora.  Her  power  of  freedom,  her  need  to  love 
and  live  really  are  too  strong  to  allow  it,  and  will  lead  her  to 
break  up  life  again  and  again  if  Helmer  continues  unawakened 
from  his  idea  that  conscience,  will,  personality,  development, 
human  dignity  are  notions  that  concern  man  only,  and  this  not 
for  himself  alone,  but  for  woman  as  represented  by  him. 

The  associates  Helmer  would  summon  to  help  him  in  drawing 
out  Nora  by  society  would  find  their  pupil  too  hard  to  manage, 
too  individual,  too  inscrutable  for  them.  She  would  win  no 
friends  among  women  of  the  world.  And  although  she  is  one 
of  those  to  whom  men  feel  drawn,  she  will  never  secure  one 
thorough  friend  among  them.  She  does  not  wish  to,  since  she 
found  out  Dr.  Rank  thought  she  had  been  making  advances  to 
him.  She  will  behave  in  a strikingly  unsuitable  manner  in 
society  ; either  too  full  of  herself  or  too  indifferent.  In  either 
case  she  will  wound  Helmer’s  fine  sense  of  what  is  fitting. 
Sometimes  she  will  show  unrestrained  feeling,  as  she  did  in  the 
Tarantella,  because  she  is  secretly  worried  about  something  ; at 
another  she  will  take  no  interest  in  what  is  going  on  around  her. 
And  if  anybody  in  society  turns  specially  to  her  as  though  to 
draw  a little  nearer  to  her  real  self,  nothing  will  be  got  out  of 
her  except  some  utterly  unsuitable  answer  ; an  answer  to  the 
thing  instead  of  an  answer  that  conveys  an  agreeable  recognition 
of  the  questioner’s  polite  attention. 

So  Nora  will  get  no  recompense  in  society  for  her  losses 
at  home — her  husband’s  growing  precision,  or  the  children’s 
mixture  of  affection  and  disrespect,  when  at  one  time  she  is  able 
behind  their  father’s  back  to  give  them  what  they  want,  and  at 
another  cannot  do  what  she  promised  them. 

A few  glimpses  of  happiness  for  Nora,  and  a sort  of  sad  rest 
for  Helmer,  may,  however,  come  into  their  ruined  home  ; not 
when  the  family  is  alone,  for  then  the  tension  is  only  too  plain, 
but  when  they  give  small  parties,  and  the  hostess  is  able  to  lay 
down  her  own  rules  for  etiquette,  and  charms  herself  into  a 
fancied  self-guidance  and  liberty  for  a few  hours.  Young  people 
will  feel  particularly  happy  on  these  occasions,  and  Nora  will 
flash  out  for  a few  moments  and  seem  young  again.  When  all 
this  is  over,  Torvald,  who  is  still  in  love  with  her,  will  spend 
long  hours  in  painfully  pondering  what  it  is  that  he  has  done, 
that  his  young,  happy,  warm  world  has  been  cut  away  from 
under  him,  that  he,  though  he  has  continued  master  in  his  own 
home,  really  has  no  home  now  ? 

Need  we  follow  them  further? — into  the  critical  years  when  the 
absence  of  ideality  has  made  them  grotesque,  when  young  people 
laugh  in  Helmer’s  face  at  his  way  of  playing  le  pere  noble ; 
when  Nora  is  middle-aged,  and  some  chance  opening  of  the  box 
where  a pair  of  silk  stockings  has  lain  “ever  since  that  night” 

b 2 


XX 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


tempts  from  mamma’s  lips  a neat  little  description  of  her 
triumphs  at  the  costume  ball,  ending  with  the  remark  that  Emmy 
has  her  mother’s  foot  and  ankle,  but  she  “must  not  think  of 
putting  on  that  charming  dress  and  dancing  with  the  tambourine, 
poor  little  Emmy  ! or  let  out  that  she  has  even  seen  them  ; papa 
can’t  bear  such  things,  you  know.” 

Such  then  is  what  in  the  most  favourable  circumstances  a 
mere  ‘warning’  must  have  brought  Nora  and  Helmer  to,  being 
what  they  were  by  nature  and  education.  We  should  see 
Nora  selfish,  but  with  the  selfishness  that  is  more  or  less  in 
every  natural  woman’s  heart,  which  unchecked  and  suppressed 
destroys  either  her  whole  woman’s  personality  or  the  happiness 
and  honour  of  all  around  her,  but  raised  to  the  moral  plane  of 
freedom  would,  on  the  contrary,  have  saved  both.  And  we  should 
see  Helmer  selfish,  in  a certain  sense  more  so  than  Nora  ; but 
selfish  with  the  egoism  of  his  sex,  with  satisfaction  that  he  is  a 
man,  and  not  a woman,  rather  than  with  any  very  exaggerated 
individual  egoism.  He  is  typical  of  the  class  of  men  on  whom 
the  punishment  falls  most  heavily  of  women  not  getting  a true 
human  education,  but  being  brought  up  to  self-deception  instead, 
and  it  is  rather  the  punishment  of  his  whole  sex  that  he  bears 
than  any  tragic  fate  of  his  own  in  bearing  the  consequences  of 
not  having  promoted  his  wife’s  human  development. 

Let  us  now  see  what  prospect  there  is  of  reconciliation  be- 
tween the  Adam  and  Eve  whom  Ibsen  drives  out  of  their 
Paradise  into  the  world  of  consciousness.  Everything  in  the 
play  strengthens  our  perception  of  the  bare  truth  that  these  two 
people  have  by  their  life  together  brought  matters  to  such  a pass, 
that  before  anything  good  can  come  to  them,  Helmer  must  try 
to  come  to  himself,  and  Nora  to  herself.  And  at  the  last  moment 
there  seems  a prospect  that  they  will  achieve  it  some  day.  And 
earthly  life  offers  no  truer  ground  for  reconciliation  than  this,  if 
we  believe  development  to  be  the  end  of  our  existence.  Every 
right-thinking  person  must  feel  compelled  to  admit  that  Nora’s 
fight  for  existence  as  it  faces  her  in  all  its  cruelty  deserves  our 
love  a thousand  times  more  than  any  return  to  the  doll’s  house 
conditions  of  ruining  herself,  her  husband,  and  her  children  ; but 
this  by  no  means  prevents  his  feeling  painfully  affected  by  the 
idea  of  Helmer’ s petted  wife,  Ivar’s,  Bob’s,  and  Emmy’s  merry 
little  mother,  going  away  and  shutting  the  door  between  herself 
and  them.  It  is  the  only  violent  action  in  the  last  scene,  and  it 
makes  us  feel  all  the  indescribable  pain  that  must  weigh  on  that 
undeveloped,  newly-roused  being  on  the  threshold  between  her 
past  and  her  future. 

What  is  the  outlook  for  him  who  is  left  behind  on  the  stage, 
between  his  certainty  of  crushed  happiness  and  the  hope  of 
higher  things  arising  ? He  thought  himself  so  pure-hearted  and 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


xxi 


justifiable  in  everything  ; he  finds  he  only  possessed  a favourite 
slave.  Is  it  only  mechanically  that  he  repeats  her  words*  “the 
greatest  miracle,”  or  does  a new  hope  arise  within  him?  The 
poet  bids  us  think  he  has  some  new  hope.  Is  it  that  Nora  will 
repent  and  return?  Her  last  words  are  too  clear;  she  expects 
a radical  change  in  him.  Through  all  the  mist  of  his  senses 
and  prejudices  has  he  not  caught  a glimpse  of  the  real  Nora,  the 
higher  Eros,  whom  Socrates  calls  the  oldest  of  all  the  gods,  and, 
bowed  to  the  earth  with  blushes,  yet  thankful  he  has  learnt  to 
blush,  does  he  not  say  to  himself,  “A  woman  too  is  intended 
to  be  a human  being”?  Then  he  asks,  “ Am  I a human  being? 
Have  I not  made  a slave  of  her  who  might  have  helped  me  to 
freedom  ? ” 

How  near  to  freedom  he  is  no  one  can  determine,  not  even 
the  poet  himself,  because  the  path  to  freedom  is  one  that  cannot 
be  marked  out  beforehand.  But  everything  in  the  play  indicates 
that  he  will  attain  it.  And  if  he  does,  it  will  be  no  small  matter 
that  in  everything  but  what  concerned  Nora  he  was  an  honest 
man. 

Since  the  idea  in  Nora  is  plain  to  all,  we  will  now  inquire 
what  means  Ibsen  selected  from  every-day  life  to  make  his 
meaning  clear.  The  kernel  of  every  home  is  its  womanly 
principle,  and  the  kernel  of  Ibsen’s  play  is  Nora’s  character. 
He  means  to  make  a modern  home  go  to  pieces  before  our  very 
eyes  from  some  necessity  within  itself.  It  must  contain  every- 
thing that  can  attract : simplicity,  gladness,  power  of  work,  good 
temper,  gentle  and  strong  regard,  love  of  beauty,  merry  little 
children,  friends,  well-managed  servants,  good  habits,  good 
reputation,  a position  that  has  at  length  been  won  by  praise- 
worthy endeavours,  etc.  ; but  also  a husband  who  has  such  an 
essentially  false  idea  of  happiness  between  man  and  woman,  that 
it  has  practically  undermined  this  delightful  home,  and  it  is  ready 
to  fall  in  at  any  moment. 

The  husband,  too,  is  such  a pleasant  man  that  his  Oriental 
view  of  woman  is  ennobled,  so  far  as  a view  can  be  that 
is  so  inhuman  and  wounding  to  us.  His  belief,  not  that  humanity 
is  creation’s  king,  but  that  man  is,  comes  out  in  a kind,  quiet 
way ; if  ever  otherwise,  he  soon  recovers  his  Oriental  manly 
dignity,  as  though  to  say : I forgot  myself.  I judged  her  as 
though  she  were  a human  being.  In  my  haste  I overlooked  the 
fact  of  her  being  only  a woman.  But  it  shall  not  happen  twice. 
Henceforth  I will  abide  faithful  and  true  to  my  principle  that  I, 
and  I only,  bear  the  burden  and  responsibility  for  us  both. 

If  these  presumptions  are  sufficiently  unmistakable  at  every 
turn  in  the  play,  the  spectator  knows  from  the  very  beginning 
that  some  of  the  indispensable  conditions  for  healthy  develop- 


XXII 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


ment  are  wanting,  and  that  the  breaking  up  of  the  doll’s  house 
is  only  a question  of  time. 

But  it  might  have  lasted  a lifetime,  as  so  many  false  marriages 
do,  and  in  that  case  it  would  not  have  been  a suitable  subject 
for  a play.  The  dramatist  did  not  need  for  his  object  a strong 
character,  such  as  could  have  set  the  wrong  right,  and  kept  the 
home  together ; or  a ‘ passive ’ woman,  whose  will  is  dead ; or 
one  with  ‘ a broken  heart  ’ ; or  a superficial  person,  who  ends 
in  being  satisfied  with  trifles  ; or  one  who  suffers,  and  weeps,  and 
sighs ; or  one  of  those  who  combine  any  of  these  characters  with 
that  of  a prude  or  a coquette.  Any  one  of  these  women  would 
have  delayed  the  climax,  so  as  to  destroy  dramatic  possibilities ; 
nor  would  a large  and  highly  religious  womanly  figure  have 
been  suitable ; still  less  would  one  already  exhausted  by  homage 
to  propriety  and  custom. 

Ibsen  needed  a young  creature,  loving  but  undisciplined  ; full 
of  life,  but  lacking  all  principle  in  thought  and  action  ; blind 
to  all  but  what  is  nearest  at  hand,  but  ready  to  love  with  her 
whole  strength,  that  is,  to  devote  all  her  happiness  to  what  is 
nearest  her  ; otherwise,  cruel  with  indifferent  carelessness,  but 
only  because  no  notion  of  the  rights  of  others,  of  ‘strangers/ 
has  ever  been  presented  to  her  ; capable  as  a child  of  nature  is  of 
stealing  on  behalf  of  her  own  dear  ones,  but  not  capable  as  an 
artificialized  nature  is  of  stealing  from  them  in  order  to  gratify  her 
private  vanity  before  strangers  with  what  she  has  thus  stolen  ; 
gentle  to  those  nearest  her,  but  not  to  others  or  to  herself ; 
an  uneducated  girl  who  never  had  a mother  ; one  who  as  a 
daughter  and  a growing  girl  had  to  get  what  poor  little  exchange 
of  thought  she  could  in  the  maids’  room  ; a wife  who  is  obliged 
to  choose  as  her  confidential  friend  her  husband’s  friend,  and  not 
her  husband  himself ; a beautiful,  attractive  young  woman,  who 
feels  she  is  independent,  placed  in  the  high  position  of  head  of 
a house,  but  who,  none  the  less,  has  come  to  tricking  her 
husband  by  lie  after  lie  in  daily  life,  half-consciously  longing, 
and  waiting  outside  in  the  darkness,  for  some  change  that  is  to 
come  suddenly,  “the  miracle,”  she  does  not  exactly  know  what, 
but  its  effect  is  to  be  that  the  activity  of  her  soul  and  her  hus- 
band’s are  no  longer  to  be  allowed  to  go  different  ways  ; that 
what  she  tries,  what  she  accomplishes,  what  she  sacrifices,  is  to 
be  reckoned  as  human  like  his.  The  poet  must  find  all  these 
elements  like  mines  ready  laid  in  the  woman’s  character,  upon 
which  the  existence  of  the  home  is  based.  No  one  of  them  must 
fail  him  when  the  match  is  put  to  the  train  if  the  doll’s  house 
is  to  be  blown  to  unrecognizable  pieces  before  our  eyes. 

Nora  is  precisely  all  this.  The  poet  has  now  what  he  wants  ; 
it  is  as  in  real  life  : the  persons  of  the  action  have  no  notion 
what  they  are  about  until  the  moment  of  parting. 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN.  xxiii 


When  all  is  falling  to  pieces,  and  not  a moment  sooner,  they 
see  by  a sudden  flash  how  they  have  been  gradually  bringing  their 
fate  on  themselves,  so  that  it  destroys  all  the  edifice  of  their 
past  life  : the  man  by  not  having  considered  the  woman’s 
personality  ; the  woman  by  the  man  having  loved  a person  who 
does  not  exist,  an  illusion  the  more  unfortunate  in  her  case,  as 
it  turned  her  best  deeds  into  faults. 

It  has  been  alleged  that  Nora  is  not  the  same  person  in  her 
concluding  scene  with  Helmer  as  she  is  throughout  the  play. 
So  far  as  her  understanding  goes,  she  is  just  the  same.  Her  one 
reproach  to  Helmer  at  the  end  is  that  he  did  not  take  the  blame 
on  himself,  and  her  calm  at  the  end  is  so  touching  because  the 
spectator  knows  what  Helmer  neither  knows  nor  believes,  that 
she  was  really  ready  to  die  to  save  him  from  the  necessity  of 
taking  the  blame  on  himself.  For  she  means  it  in  perfect  good 
faith ; in  a few  minutes  she  will  jump  into  “the  cold,  black  water,” 
which  does  not,  however,  prevent  her,  with  her  childish  optimism, 
her  habit  of  succeeding,  and  her  power  of  telling  herself  tales  (such 
as  of  the  old  gentleman  who  was  to  leave  her  his  property),  having 
some  hope  that  the  water  might  not  be  cold,  or  not  drown  her,  or 
might  change  her  into  some  new  being,  whom  no  anxiety  could 
threaten.  For  even  in  this  last  and  most  honest  resolve  to  die  she 
is  not  acting  as  one  fully  awake,  responsible,  and  conscious.  She 
is  all  this  for  the  first  time  at  the  moment  she  breaks  away  from 
Helmer  and  goes.  But  it  is  the  old  Nora,  only  it  is  Nora  on 
her  most  serious  side ; it  is  the  young  and  inexperienced  woman 
who,  after  Helmer’s  proper  little  speech  gives  her  the  experience 
that  puts  an  end  to  her  youth,  cannot  help  telling  him  how 
boundlessly  she  once  believed  in  him. 

The  same  objection  is  urged  by  those  who  say  that  she  utters 
a number  of  incontestable  truths,  or,  as  her  enemies  describe  it, 
“makes  a speech”  at  the  end  and  “preaches  the  doctrine  of 
the  future.”  This,  were  it  true,  would  prove  her  to  be  another 
Nora.  But  she  really  speaks  as  she  always  has  spoken,  without 
any  calculation  whatever.  It  is  but  the  outburst  of  human  nature’s 
own  consciousness  of  itself,  but  it  has  been  so  very  recently 
awakened  in  her.  It  first  awoke  in  her  at  the  moment  when  she 
finally  discovered  the  thing  whose  pain  wrung  from  her  .... 
“It  became  clear  to  me  that  I had  been  living  here  all  these 
years  with  a strange  man,  and  had  borne  him  three  children. 
Oh  ! I cannot  bear  to  think  of  it  ! I could  tear  myself  in  pieces ! ” 

Till  then  she  had  never  guessed  that  her  husband’s  Oriental 
view  of  life’s  task  as  adjusted  to  the  two  sexes  had  been  a 
serious  one,  which  had  reduced  her  to  a mere  Thing,  day  after 
day — the  dearest  thing  in  all  the  world,  but  not  a human  being, 
not  his  peer.  The  moment  she  not  only  guessed  this,  but  knew 
it  with  the  most  deadly  cold  certainty,  every  spark  of  womanly 


XUV 


LIFE  OF  HENRIK  IBSEN. 


instinct  told  her  in  that  second  all  that  can  ever  be  taught  or 
known  about  it. 

Nora  herself  is  the  Chorus  to  all  the  previous  action  through 
the  general  truths  she  finally  utters,  but  it  is  precisely  because 
she  only  gets  to  know  them  at  the  very  moment  she  utters  them. 
It  is  just  on  such  occasions  as  this  that  people  do  speak,  unless 
feeling  chokes  their  words. 

Nora’s  being  able  to  speak  harmonizes  with  her  whole  self. 
Helmer  has  always  been  mistaken  in  his  notion  that  she  was 
‘ weak  ’ ; it  was  part  of  his  false  theory  of  a wife.  She  is 
rather  strong  than  not,  as  appears  in  all  her  doings.  And  if 
women  in  general  come  to  act  more,  the  same  thing  will  cause 
surprise  in  countless  cases.  Weakness  is  most  often  nothing  but 
destroyed  power  of  thinking  and  doing.  It  is  because  her 
character  is  so  capable  of  strong  devotion  that  she  can  go  away 
when  she  finds  she  would  do  harm  by  staying,  and  can  speak  out 
all  the  hard  new  truths,  feeling  as  she  does  that  she  is  no  more 
fit  to  stay  and  educate  him  into  them  than  he  is  to  educate  her. 

But  people  shoot  beside  the  mark,  too,  when  they  will  not  see 
the  subject  of  Nora  as  one  of  universal  human  application, 
when  they  think  that  Ibsen  wanted  to  make  Helmer  hateful. 
What  Ibsen  wanted  to  make  hateful,  and  what  he  has  made 
hateful,  is  Helmer’s  false  view  of  half  humanity — a view  that 
still  is  the  view  of  life  that  most  men  hold,  and  that  makes  it 
possible  for  a man  to  be  every  inch  a gentleman  without  being 
for  that  reason  a human  being  ; to  believe  he  loves  a woman, 
and  at  the  same  time  think  he  can  be  Will  and  Conscience  for 
her ; that  makes  it  possible  for  a woman  to  call  these  habits 
of  thought  in  men  Chivalry,  and  exercise  every  quality  of  her 
inner  and  outward  being  only  to  secure  the  small  triumphs  of 
an  odalisk,  while  at  the  same  time  she  believes  herself  a pure- 
hearted  woman,  believes  that  she  loves,  believes  that  she  really 
lives. 

It  is  this  social  pest,  this  expression  of  what  is  unnatural,  that 
Ibsen  hates.  For  it  is  unnatural,  standing  as  it  does  side  by 
side  with  such  a highly-developed  notion  of  individuality  as  that 
now  current  in  society.  And  Ibsen  hates  this  not  because  he 
delights  to  hate,  but  because,  as  a poet,  he  loves  individuality 
with  all  his  heart,  and  womanly  individuality  above  all,  as  the 
friendly,  dawning  promise  for  all  our  retarded  human  develop- 
ment, as  the  most  promising  side  in  the  gospel  of  Man,  as  the 
daylight  side  of  the  future. 

Frances  Lord. 

176,  Lambeth  Road , London , 

November,  1882. 


NORA 


ACT  I. 

A room  comfortably  and  tastefully , but  not 
expensively , furnished. 

( To  the  right  a door  leads  to  the  Hall ; to  the  left  another 
door  in  the  background  to  HelmePs  study.  Between 
the  two  doors  a pianoforte. 

In  the  middle  of  the  left  wall  a door , and  somewhat 
nearer  the  front  a window.  Near  the  window  a round 
table  with  an  arm-chair  and  a small  sofa.  In  the  right 
wall , somewhat  to  the  back , a door.  In  the  same  wall , 
more  forward , a stove  of  porcelain , by  it  a couple 
of  arm-chairs  and  a rocking-chair.  Between  the 
stove  and  the  side  door  a small  table.  Engravings  on 
the  walls.  An  etagere  with  chma  and  small  curiosities . 
A small  book-case  of  showily-bound  books.  Carpel. 
A fire  burns  in  the  stove.  It  is  winter. ) 

SCENE  I. 

Nora.  A Porter.  Ellen.  Then  H elmer.  The  bell 
rings  in  the  hall  outside.  Presently  the  hall  door  is  heard 
opened.  Nora  walks  into  the  rooin  humming  content- 
edly. She  is  in  walking  dress , and  has  several  parcels 
in  her  arms , which  she  lays  on  the  right-hand  table. 
She  leaves  the  door  into  the  hall  open  behind  her.  a?td 
a Porter  is  seen  standing  outside,  carrying  a Christmas 
tree  and  a basket;  he  gives  these  to  the  maid-servant 
who  opened  the  door. 

Nora. 

Be  sure  you  hide  the  Christmas  tree  most  carefully, 
Ellen  ; so  that  the  children  don’t  on  any  account  catch 
sight  of  it  before  this  evening,  when  it  is  dressed  and  lit. 
LTo  the  Porter,  taking  out  her purse. ) How  much  ? 

B 


2 


NORA. 


Porter. 

Sixpence,  if  you  please,  ma’am. 


Nora. 

There  is  a shilling  ...  No,  keep  the  change. 

( The  Porter  thanks  her  and  goes.  Nora  shuts  the 
door.  She  continues  smiling  with  quiet  contentment  as 
she  takes  off  her  walking  things.  Then  she  takes  from 
her  pocket  a box  of  sweetmeats , and  eats  soine.  As  she 
does  so,  she  steps  cautiously  to  her  husband's  door  and 
listens.')  Yes  ; he  is  home.  (She  begins  humming  again, 
walking  to  the  right-hand  table.) 

H ELMER  (in  his  rooiri). 

Is  that  my  lark  who  is  twittering  outside  there  ? 

Nora  ( busy  opening  some  of  her  parcels). 

Yes,  it  is. 

H ELMER. 

Is  it  the  little  squirrel  running  about  ? 


Yes. 


Nora. 

Helmer. 


When  did  it  get  home  ? 


Nora. 

Just  this  minute.  ( Hides  the  box  of  sweetmeats  in  her 
pocket  and  wipes  her  mouth.)  Come  in  here,  Torvald, 
and  see  what  I have  bought. 


Helmer. 

I can’t  be  interrupted  now.  ( A little  later  he  opens  the 
door  and  looks  in,  pen  in  hand.)  ‘Bought/  did  you  say? 
What ! all  that  heap  of  things  ? Has  my  little  spendthrift 
bird  been  wasting  more  money  ? 

Nora. 

But,  Torvald,  we  really  can  waste  a little  now.  It  is 
positively  the  first  Christmas  we  aren’t  obliged  to  pinch. 


Helmer. 

Yes  ; but  I’ll  tell  you  what  : We  mustn’t  waste  money 
either,. 


NORA. 


3 


Nora. 

Still,  Torvald,  we  may  venture  to  spend  a little  al- 
ready, mayn’t  we?  just  a very,  very  little.  You  have 
really  got  a capital  position,  and  you’ll  be  earning  ever 
so  much  money. 

H ELMER. 

Yes,  from  New  Year’s  Day.  But  there  is  a whole 
quarter  before  my  next  salary  is  due. 

Nora. 

Never  mind ; we  can  borrow  for  that  little  time. 

H ELMER. 

Nora  ! (He  steps  towards  her  and  takes  her  playfully  by 
the  ear.)  Is  your  heedlessness  running  away  with  you 
again  ? Supposing  that  I borrowed  fifty  pounds  to-day, 
and  you  spent  it  during  Christmas  week,  and  that  on 
New  Year’s  Day  a tile  blew  off  the  roof  and  struck  my 
head,  and  I were  . . . 

Nora  {stopping  his  mouth). 

Stuff ! How  can  you  say  such  horrid  things  ! 

Helmer. 

But,  supposing  anything  of  the  kind  were  to  happen. 
What  then  ? 

Nora. 

If  such  a misfortune  were  to  happen,  I should  not  care 
whether  I had  debts  or  whether  I hadn’t. 

Helmer. 

But  what  about  the  people  I had  borrowed  from  ? 

Nora. 

Those  people  ! Who  would  trouble  about  them  ? They 
would  be  strangers,  of  course. 

Helmer. 

Nora,  Nora  ! you  are  a mere  baby.  But  seriously, 
dear  child,  you  know  my  way  of  thinking  about  such 
matters.  No  debts  ! Never  borrow  ! Home  life  ceases 
to  be  free  and  beautiful  directly  its  foundations  are  Borrow- 
ing and  Debts.  We  two  have  held  out  bravely  till  now, 
and  we  will  do  so  for  the  little  time  now  remaining. 

B 2 


4 


NOHA. 


Nora  (going  io  the  fireplace). 

Ye — s.  Just  as  you  like,  Torvald. 

H ELMER  (following  her). 

Come,  come ; my  lark  must  not  let  her  wings  droop 
immediately  . . . What  ! wry  faces?  (takes  out  his  purse). 
Nora,  what  do  you  think  I’ve  got  here? 

Nora  (turning  round  quickly ). 

Money ! 

H ELMER. 

There  (gives  her  some  notes).  By  Jove  ! don’t  I know 
that  all  sorts  of  things  are  wanted  at  Christmas  ? 

Nora  (counting) . 

Ten,  twenty,  thirty,  forty.  Oh  ! thank  you,  thank  you, 
Torvald.  This  will  help  me  on  for  a long  while  to  come. 

Helmer. 

That  is  just  what  I hope. 

Nora. 

Yes,  indeed  ; for  a long  while.  But  now  you  must 
come  too,  and  see  all  I have  been  buying.  And  so 
cheap  ! Look,  here  is  a new  suit  for  Ivar,  and  a little 
sword  as  well.  Here  are  a little  horse  and  a trumpet  for 
Bob.  And  here  are  a doll  and  a cradle  for  Emmy.  They 
are  only  common ; but  she  will  soon  pull  them  all  to 
pieces.  And  here  I’ve  got  dresses  and  neckties  for  Ellen 
and  Mary  Ann.  Only  I ought  to  have  got  something 
better  for  Mary  Ann. 

Helmer. 

And  what  is  that  in  the  other  parcel  ? 

Nora  (crying  out). 

No,  Torvald,  you’re  not  to  see  that  before  this  evening. 

Helmer. 

Oh  ! ah.  But  now  tell  me,  you  little  spendthrift,  what 
you  have  got  for  yourself. 

Nora. 

Never  mind  me.  I don’t  want  anything  for  myself. 


NORA. 


5 


Helmer. 

But  I am  sure  you  do.  Just  tell  me  something  sensible 
you  would  like  to  have. 

Nora. 


No;  I really  know  of  nothing  . . . Yes ; listen,  Torvald. 
Helmer. 


Well  ? 


Nora  (■ playing  with  his  coat  buttons , without  looking 
him  in  the  face). 

If  you  want  to  give  me  something,  you  might,  you 
know,  you  might  . . . 


Helmer. 

Well,  well  ? Out  with  it ! 

Nora  {quickly). 

You  might  give  me  the  money,  Torvald.  Only  just  as 
much  as  you  think  you  can  spare ; then  I will  buy  myself 
something  with  it  later  on. 

Helmer. 

But,  Nora — 

Nora. 

Oh,  please  do,  dear  Torvald,  I beg  and  implore  you. 
Then  I would  hang  the  money  in  lovely  gilt  paper  on  the 
Christmas  tree.  Wouldn't  that  be  funny? 


Helmer. 

What  do  people  call  the  bird  who  always  spends  every- 
thing ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  I know : a spendthrift,  of  course.  But  please  do 
what  I ask  you,  Torvald.  Then  I shall  have  time  to  think 
what  I most  want.  Is  not  that  very  sensible?  Come  ! 

Helmer  {smiling). 

Certainly ; that  is  to  say,  it  would  be  if  you  really  kept 
the  money  I gave  you,  and  really  bought  yourself  some- 
thing with  it.  But  it  all  goes  in  housekeeping,  and  for  all 
sorts  of  useless  things,  and  then  I have  to  find  more. 


Nora. 


But,  Torvald  . . . 


6 


NORA. 


Helmer. 

Can  you  deny  it,  Nora  dear?  {He puts  his  arm  round 
her.)  My  lark  is  the  dearest  little  thing  in  the  world; 
but  she  needs  a very  great  deal  of  money.  No  one  would 
believe  how  expensive  it  comes  to  keep  such  a little  bird. 

Nora. 

Rubbish  ! how  can  you  talk  so  ? I am  sure  I am  as 
careful  as  I can  be. 

Helmer  ( smiling ). 

Very  true, — as  careful  as  you  can  be.  But  you  can’t  be 
careful  at  all. 

Nora  (hums  and  smiles  in  quiet  satisfaction). 

Hm — m.  You  should  just  know,  Torvald,  what  expenses 
larks  and  squirrels  have. 

Helmer. 

What  an  odd  little  woman  you  are  ! Just  like  your  father 
— always  eager  to  get  hold  of  money.  But  the  moment  you 
have  it,  it  seems  to  slip  through  your  fingers  somehow ; 
you  never  know  how  you  got  rid  of  it.  Well,  one  must 
take  you  as  you  are.  It’s  in  the  blood.  Yes,  my  dear 
Nora,  you  may  say  what  you  please,  but  things  of  that 
sort  are  inheritable. 

Nora. 

Ah  ! there  are  many  things  I wish  I had  inherited  from 
father. 

Helmer. 

And  I couldn’t  wish  you  to  be  anything  but  exactly 
what  you  are — my  own,  true,  little  lark.  But  ...  I say 
...  it  strikes  me  . . . you  look  so,  so — what  shall  I call 
it  ? — to-day  ...  so  suspicious. 

Nora. 

Do  I? 

Helmer. 

Yes,  really.  Look  me  full  in  the  face. 

Nora  ( looking  at  him) . 

Well? 

Helmer  (threatening  with  his  finger ). 

Hasn’t  that  little  mouth,  that  is  so  fond  of  sugar-plums, 
been  eating  some  in  the  town? 


NORA. 


7 


Nora. 

Gracious  ! no.  How  can  you  think  anything  of  the  kind 
about  me  ? 

Helmer. 

* Didn’t  the  little  mouth  just  look  in  at  the  confectioner’s  ? 

Nora. 

No,  I assure  you,  Torvald.  . . 

Helmer. 

Not  to  taste  one  dainty  dish  ? 

Nora. 

No  ; most  certainly  not. 

Helmer. 

Not  so  much  as  to  try  a few  sweetmeats  ? 

Nora. 

No,  Torvald,  I really  do  assure  you.  . . . 

Helmer. 

Well,  well,  well ; of  course  I’m  only  joking. 

Nora  {goes  to  the  right-hand  table'). 

I should  not  think  of  doing  what  you  disapprove  of. 

Helmer. 

I know,  dear ; and  you  have  given  me  your  word  {steps 
to  her).  No;  keep  your  little  Christmas  secrets  all  to 
yourself,  Nora,  dear.  They  will  come  to  light  this  very 
evening,  when  the  Christmas  tree  is  lit. 

Nora. 

Have  you  also  thought  to  invite  Doctor  Rank  ? 

Helmer. 

No.  But  that  is  not  necessary;  it  is  an  understood 
thing  that  he  dines  with  us.  Besides,  I shall  tell  him  when 
he  looks  in  to-day.  I have  ordered  some  capital  wine. 
Nora,  you  cannot  think  how  I look  forward  to  this  evening  ! 

Nora. 

So  do  I.  And  how  the  children  will  shout  for  joy, 
Torvald  ! 

Helmer. 

Oh  ! it  really  is  glorious  to  know  that  one  has  made 
one’s  position,  and  has  ample  means.  Isn’t  the  conscious- 
ness of  it  a great  enjoyment? 


NOHA. 


Nora. 

I should  think  it  is,  indeed. 

Helmer. 

Do  you  recollect  last  Christmas  ? Three  whole  weeks 
beforehand  you  used  to  shut  yourself  up  till  long  past 
midnight  in  order  to  make  flowers  to  trim  the  Christmas 
tree,  and  get  ready  all  the  other  magnificent  things  to  sur- 
prise us  with.  It  was  the  most  wearisome  time  I ever  lived 
through. 

Nora. 

It  did  not  weary  me  at  all. 

Helmer  {smiling). 

We  did  not  see  much  for  your  pains. 

Nora. 

Oh!  will  you  never  leave  off  teasing  me  about  that f 
How  could  I help  it  if  the  cat  did  get  in  and  tear 
everything  I had  made  to  pieces  ? 

Helmer. 

To  be  sure,  you  couldn’t  help  it,  my  poor  little  Nora. 
You  set  to  work  to  prepare  us  a treat  with  the  best  will  in 
the  world,  and  that  is  the  chief  matter.  . . . But,  never- 
theless, it  is  a good  thing  that  hard  times  are  over. 

Nora. 

It  is,  Torvald. 

Helmer. 

Now  I needn’t  sit  here  all  by  myself,  getting  more 
bored  every  minute  ; and  you  needn’t  tire  your  eyes  and 
your  delicate  little  fingers.  . . . 

Nora  ( clapping  her  hands). 

It  is  really  true,  isn’t  it,  Torvald,  that  I needn’t  do  it 
any  more  ? Oh  ! how  splendid  ! ( takes  his  arm).  And 
now  I will  tell  you,  darling,  how  it  has  been  striking  me 
we  ought  to  arrange  matters.  . . . Directly  Christmas  is 
over  ( the  hall  door-bell  rings).  . . Oh,  there’s  a ring  ! ( she 
advances  part  way  across  the  room).  That  is  somebody 
come  to  call.  How  vexing  ! 

Helmer. 

I am  ‘not  at  home’  to  callers.  Don’t  forget  that. 


NORA. 


9 


SCENE  II. 

The  Preceding.  Ellen. 

Ellen  (in  the  doorway  to  Nora). 

A strange  lady  wishes  to  see  you,  ma’am. 

Nora. 

Show  her  in. 

Ellen  (to  H elmer). 

And  the  Doctor  is  just  come,  sir. 

H ELMER. 

Has  he  gone  into  my  study  ? 

Ellen. 

Yes,  sir  (H elmer  goes  into  his  study.  Ellen  brings  in 
Mrs.  Linden , in  travelling  costume , and  shuts  the  door 
behind  her). 

SCENE  III. 

Nora.  Mrs.  Linden. 

Mrs.  Linden  (timidly  and  slowly ). 

How  do  you  do,  Nora? 

Nora  (uncertain  who  she  is). 

How  do  you  do  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I dare  say  you  do  not  know  me  again. 

Nora. 

No,  I really.  . . oh,  yes — I think  ( breaking  forth). 
What ! Christina  ! Is  it  really  you  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes  ; it  is  I indeed. 

Nora. 

Christina  ! and  to  think  I did  not  recognise  you  ! How 
could  I not.  . . ( More  softly.)  How  altered  you  are, 
Christina  ! 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes;  in  nine.  . . ten  long  years. 

Nora. 

Is  it  really  so  long  since  we  met  ? Yes,  it  positively  is. 
Oh  ! the  last  eight  years  have  been  a happy  time,  I can 


IO 


NORA. 


tell  you.  And  now  you  have  come  to  town  ? all  this  long 
journey  in  mid-winter  ! That  was  brave  of  you. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I have  this  moment  arrived  by  the  train. 

Nora. 

In  order  to  have  some  fun  at  Christmas  time,  to  be  sure. 
Oh,  how  delightful  that  is  ! Yes,  fun  we  certainly  will 
have.  But  take  your  things  off.  Aren’t  you  frozen  ? 
( helps  her  to  take  her  things  off).  There  ! now  we  will  sit 
down  here  cosily  by  the  fire.  No  ; in  that  arm-chair ; I 
will  sit  here  in  the  rocking  chair.  Yes,  now  you  are  showing 
me  your  dear  old  face  again.  It  was  only  the  first  moment 
I saw  you.  . . . But  you  are  a little  paler,  Christina,  and 
perhaps  a shade  thinner,  too. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

And  much,  much  older,  N ora. 

Nora. 

Yes,  perhaps  a little  older,  too — a little  wee  bit,  not 
much.  ( She  suddenly  stops ; seriously .)  Oh  ! what  a 
thoughtless  creature  I am ! Here  I sit  chattering  on,  and 
— Dear,  good  Christina,  can  you  forgive  me  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

What  do  you  mean,  Nora? 

Nora  {softly). 

Poor  Christina  ! is  it  true  you  are  a widow  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes ; three  years  ago. 

Nora. 

Ah  ! I was  sure  of  it.  I read  it  in  the  newspaper,  you 
know.  Oh,  do  believe,  Christina  dear,  I often  meant  to 
write  to  you  then  ; but  I kept  putting  it  off,  and  something 
always  hindered  me. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I can  very  well  understand  that,  Nora  dear. 

Nora. 

No,  Christina;  it  was  dreadful  of  me.  Oh,  you  poor 
darling  ! how  much  you  must  have  gone  through.  . . And 
he  really  left  you  nothing  in  the  world  to  live  upon  ? 


NORA. 


II 


No. 


Mrs.  Linden. 
Nora. 


And  no  children  either  ? 


No. 


Mrs.  Linden. 
Nora. 


Then  really  nothing  whatever  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

N ot  even  a sorrow  or  a regret . 

Nora  ( looking  at  her  incredulously). 

But,  my  dear  Christina,  how  is  that  possible  ? 

Mrs.  Linden  (smiling  sadly  a7td  stroking  her  hair). 

Oh,  it  happens  so  sometimes,  Nora. 

Nora. 

So  utterly  lonely.  . . How  awfully  hard  that  must  be 
for  you  ! I have  three  of  the  dearest  children  ever  that 
were.  But  I can’t  show  them  to  you  just  now;  they  are 
out  walking  with  nurse.  However,  now  you  must  tell  me 
your  whole  story. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

N o,  no,  I would  rather  hear  yours. 

Nora. 

No  ; you  must  begin  ; I won’t  be  egotistical  to-day.  To- 
day I will  think  of  you  only.  But  one  thing  I really  must 
tell  you.  Or  do  you  know  already  what  great  happiness 
has  fallen  to  our  lot  in  the  last  few  days  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

No.  What  is  it? 

Nora. 

Only  think  ! My  husband  has  been  made  Manager  of 
the  Joint  Stock  Bank. 


Mrs.  Linden. 

Your  husband  ! Oh,  that  is  really  a great  piece  of  luck. 
Nora. 

Yes ; tremendous,  isn’t  it  ? A professional  man’s  position 
is  so  uncertain,  especially  when  he  will  not  be  concerned 
in  any  business  except  what  is  fit  for  a gentleman  and 


12 


NOE,  A. 


respectable.  And  naturally  Torvald  would  not  do  any 
other  business  ; and  in  that  matter  I quite  agreed  with 
him.  Oh  ! you  may  well  believe  how  heartily  glad  we  are. 
He  will  enter  his  new  position  on  New  Year’s  Day,  and 
then  he  will  have  a large  saliry,  and  high  percentages  on 
the  business  done.  In  future  we  shall  be  able  to  live  in  a 
very  different  style  from  the  way  we  have  lived  hitherto — 
just  as  we  please,  in  fact.  Oh,  Christina,  I feel  so  light  and 
happy.  . . it  really  is  beautiful,  isn’t  it,  to  have  a great  deal 
of  money,  and  be  able  to  live  without  anxiety.  Now  isn’t  it? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes  ; it  cannot  but  be  delightful  to  have  bare  neces- 
saries. 

Nora. 

No,  not  only  bare  neessaries,  but  a great  deal  of  money — 
heaps ! 

Mrs.  Linden  (. smiling ). 

Nora,  Nora,  haven’t  you  grown  sensible  yet?  In  our 
school  days  you  were  a great  spendthrift. 

Nora  {quietly  smiling). 

Yes;  Torvald  says  I am  so  still  {threatens  with  her  finger). 
But  ‘Nora,  Nora,’  is  not  so  silly  as  you  all  think.  Oh  ! 
our  circumstances  have  really  not  been  such  that  I could 
be  a spendthrift.  We  both  had  to  work. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

You  as  well  ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  really — light  fancy  work  : knitting,  crochet,  and 
things  of  that  sort  ( vaguely ),  and  also  other  work.  I 
suppose  you  know  that  when  we  married  Torvald  quitted 
the  Government  service?  He  had  no  prospect  of  being 
promoted,  and  yet  he  certainly  had  to  earn  more  money 
than  before.  But  I do  assure  you  that  the  first  year  he 
over-worked  himself  quite  terribly.  You  can  easily  under- 
stand that  he  was  naturally  obliged  to  get  all  the  extra 
work  he  could  and  toil  from  morning  till  night.  It  was  too 
much  for  him,  and  he  fell  dangerously  ill.  Then  the  doctors 
declared  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  goto  the  South. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes ; you  spent  a whole  year  in  Italy,  didn’t  you  ? 


NORA. 


13 


Nora. 

We  did.  It  was  not  an  easy  matter  to  arrange,  I can 
assure  you.  Ivar  was  only  just  born  then.  But  we  had 
to  go.  Oh,  it  was  a delicious  journey  ! And  it  saved 
Torvald’s  life.  But  it  cost  an  awful  sum  of  money,  Christina. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

You  needn’t  tell  me  that,  dear. 

Nora. 

Three  hundred  pounds.  That’s  a great  deal,  isn’t  it  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

But  in  such  cases  it  is,  after  all,  a most  fortunate  thing 
to  have  the  money  to  spend. 

Nora. 

Yes ; I ought  to  tell  you  I got  it  from  father. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Ah ; I see.  It  was  just  about  the  time  he  died,  I 
think  ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  Christina,  just  then.  And  think  what  it  was  for 
me  not  to  be  able  to  go  to  him  and  nurse  him  ! I was 
expecting  little  Ivars  birth  daily.  And  then  I had  my 
Torvald  to  nurse,  who  was  dangerously  ill  too.  Dear  good 
father  ! I never  saw  him  again,  Christina.  Ch  ! that  is 
the  hardest  thing  I have  had  to  bear  since  I married. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I know  you  were  devotedly  fond  of  your  father.  And 
then  you  and  your  husband  started  for  Italy  ? 

Nora. 

Yes  ; a month  later.  By  that  time  we  had  the  money ; 
and  the  doctors  were  so  peremptory. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

And  your  husband  returned  completely  cured? 

Nora. 

Sound  as  a bell. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

But — the  Doctor  ? 


What  about  him  ? 


Nora. 


14 


NORA. 


Mrs.  Linden. 

I thought  your  servant  said  that  the  gentleman  who 
came  in  just  when  I did  was  the  Doctor.  . . 

Nora. 

Yes,  it  was  Doctor  Rank.  But  he  does  not  pay  any 
professional  visits  here.  He  is  our  best  friend,  and  comes 
in  to  chat  with  us  at  least  once  every  day.  No,  Torvald 
has  not  had  an  hour’s  illness  since  we  went  to  Italy.  And 
the  children,  too,  are  so  healthy  and  well,  and  so  am  I. 
(Jumps  up  and  claps  her  hands.')  Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear! 
Christina,  it  is  indeed  delicious  to  live  and  be  happy ! — 
Oh,  but  it  is  really  horrible  of  me  ! I am  talking  about 
nothing  but  my  own  concerns  (sits  down  upon  a footstool 
close  to  her  and  lays  her  arms  on  Christina  s knee).  Oh  ! 
don’t  be  angry  with  me  for  it.  Now  just  tell  me,  is  it 
really  true  that  you  couldn’t  endure  your  husband?  Why 
ever  did  you  marry  him,  then  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

My  . mother  was  living  at  that  time,  and  she  was  ill  and 
helpless ; and  then  I had  my  two  younger  brothers  to 
provide  for.  I considered  it  my  duty  to  accept  him. 

Nora. 

Oh,  yes.  I dare  say  you  were  right  there.  Then  he 
was  rich  in  those  days  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Very  well  off  indeed,  I believe.  But  his  business  was 
not  sound,  Nora.  When  he  died  it  all  fell  to  pieces,  and 
there  was  nothing  left. 

Nora. 

And  then  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Then  I had  to  try  to  make  my  way  by  keeping  a small 
shop,  a little  school,  and  anything  else  I could  get.  The 
last  three  years  have  been  for  me  one  long  working-day, 
without  a moment’s  rest.  But  now  it  is  over,  Nora  dear. 
My  poor  mother  no  longer  needs  me:  she  is  at  rest  in 
her  grave.  Nor  do  the  boys  need  me:  they  are  in  busi- 
ness, and  can  provide  for  themselves. 

Nora. 

How  relieved  you  must  feel ! 


NORA. 


15 


Mrs.  Linden. 

No,  Nora  : only  inexpressibly  empty.  To  have  nobody 
you  can  devote  your  life  to  ! ( stands  up  restless).  That  is 
why  I could  not  bear  to  stay  any  longer  in  that  out-of-the- 
way  little  town.  It  must  be  easier  to  find  something  here 
that  really  has  a claim  upon  one  and  occupies  one’s 
thoughts.  If  I could  but  be  so  fortunate  as  to  get  a 
fixed  post — some  office-work. 

Nora. 

But,  Christina,  that  is  so  terribly  tiring,  and  you  look 
so  overdone  already.  It  would  be  far  better  for  you  if  you 
could  go  to  some  cheerful  watering-place  for  a while. 

Mrs.  Linden  {going  to  the  window). 

I have  no  father  who  could  give  me  the  money  to  go,  Nora. 

Nora  {rising). 

Oh  ! don’t  be  vexed  with  me. 

Mrs.  Linden  {going  towards  her). 

No,  it  is  rather  I who  must  beg  your  indulgence,  Nora 
dear.  The  worst  of  a position  like  mine  is  that  it  makes 
one  bitter.  One  has  nobody  to  work  for,  and  yet  one  is 
obliged  to  be  always  slaving  and  scraping  together.  Be- 
sides, one  must  live,  and  so  one  gets  selfish.  When  you 
told  me  of  the  happy  change  in  your  circumstances, — 
you’ll  hardly  believe  it ; — but  I rejoiced  more  on  my  own 
account  than  on  yours. 

Nora. 

How  do  you  mean?  Ah!  I see.  You  mean  Tor vald 
could  do  something  for  you. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes  ; I thought  so. 

Nora. 

And  he  shall,  too,  Christina  dear.  Just  leave  that  to 
me.  I shall  lead  up  to  it  in  the  most  delicate  manner  in 
the  world,  and  think  of  something  pleasant  in  order  to 
incline  him  favourably  to  it.  Oh  ! I should  so  like  to  do 
something  for  you. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

How  good  of  you,  Nora,  to  take  up  my  cause  so 
zealously — it  is  doubly  good  in  you,  who  know  so  little  of 
the  troubles  and  difficulties  of  life. 


i6 


NORA. 


Nora. 

I ? I know  so  little  of — ? 

Mrs.  Linden  {smiling). 

Bless  me  ! a little  fancy-work,  and  things  of  that  sort. 
You  are  a mere  baby,  Nora. 

Nora  ( tosses  her  head  and  paces  the  room). 

I would  not  be  so  positive  if  I were  you.  ' 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Really  ? 

Nora. 

You  are  like  everybody  else.  You  none  of  you  think 
that  I could  be  of  any  real  use. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Come,  come,  darling — 

Nora. 

— that  I have  had  my  trials,  too,  in  this  troublesome 
world. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Dear  Nora,  you  have  just  finished  telling  me  the  whole 
story  of  your  trials. 

Nora. 

I dare  say — the  little  ones.  {Softly .)  The  big  trials  I 
haven’t  told  you  a word  about. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

What  great  trials  ? What  do  you  mean  ? 

Nora. 

You  look  at  me  so  patronisingly,  Christina ; but  you 
wouldn’t  if  you  knew  all.  You  are  proud  of  having  worked 
so  hard  and  so  long  for  your  mother. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I am  sure  I patronise  nobody.  But  it  is  true  that  I am 
proud  and  glad  that  it  was  my  privilege  to  secure  my 
mother  the  evening-time  of  her  life  tolerably  free  from 
care. 

Nora. 

And  you  are  also  proud  of  having  done  all  you  did  for 
your  brothers. 


NORA. 


17 


Mrs.  Linden. 

It  seems  to  me  I have  a right  to  be  proud  of  it. 

Nora. 

I quite  agree.  But  now  I will  tell  you  something, 
Christina  : I,  too,  have  something  to  be  proud  and  glad 
about. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I don’t  doubt  it.  But  what  do  you  mean  ? 

Nora. 

Not  so  loud.  Suppose  Torvald  were  to  hear  ! On  no 
account  must  he  or  anybody  know  it,  Christina  ; nobody 
but  you. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

What  can  it  be,  my  dear  ? 

Nora. 

Come  over  here  ( draws  her  beside  her  on  the  sofa). 
Yes  ...  I too  have  something  to  be  proud  and  glad 
about.  It  was  I who  saved  Torvald’s  life. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Saved  his  life?  How  saved  his  life  ? 

Nora. 

I told  you  about  our  Italian  journey.  But  for  that  he 
must  have  died. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

So  I understood,  dear ; and  your  father  gave  you  the 
needful  money. 

Nora  (smiting). 

Yes  ; so  Torvald  and  everybody  else  believes  ; but — 

Mrs.  Linden. 

But  . . . 

Nora. 

Father  didn’t  give  us  one  penny.  It  was  I who  found 
the  money. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

You  ? The  whole  of  that  large  sum  ? 

Nora. 

Three  hundred  pounds.  What  do  you  say  to  that  ? 

c 


1 8 


NORA. 


Mrs.  Linden. 

But,  my  dear  Nora,  how  was  it  possible  ? Did  you  win 
it  in  some  lottery  ? 

Nora  ( contemptuously ). 

In  a lottery  ? Pooh  ! What  would  there  have  been 
clever  in  that  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Then  wherever  did  you  get  it  from  ? 

Nora  ( hums  and  smiles  mysteriously ). 

Hm ; tra-la-la-la  ! 

Mrs.  Linden. 

For  you  certainly  couldn’t  borrow  it. 

Nora. 

No?  Why  not  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

My  dear  love  ! how  could  a wife  without  her  husband's 
consent  borrow  such  an  important  sum  as  that  ? 

Nora  ( throwing  her  head  back). 

Oh  ! when  the  wife  is  one  who  has  some  slight  know- 
ledge of  business,  a woman  who  knows  how  to  set  about 
things  with  a little  wisdom,  then  . . . 

Mrs.  Linden. 

But,  Nora,  I can’t  in  the  least  comprehend — 

Nora. 

Nor  need  you.  It  has  never  been  stated  that  I borrowed 
the  money.  Perhaps  I got  it  in  another  way  ( throws  her- 
self back  on  the  sofa).  I may  have  got  it  from  some 
ardent  swain  or  another.  When  anybody  is  so  distractingly 
pretty  as  I am  . . . 

Mrs.  Linden. 

You  are  a fool,  Nora. 

Nora. 

Now  I am  sure  you  are  intensely  curious,  Christina  . . . 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Listen  to  me  for  a moment,  Nora  dear.  Haven’t  you 
been  a little  indiscreet  ? 

Nora  {sitting  upright  again). 

Is  it  indiscreet  to  save  one’s  husband’s  life  ? 


NO  HA. 


19 


Mrs.  Linden. 

It  seems  to  me  it  was  indiscreet  that  you,  without  his 
knowledge  . . . 

Nora. 

But  he  mightn’t  know  anything  about  it.  Can’t  you 
comprehend  that  ? He  was  not  to  guess  for  a single 
moment  how  ill  he  was.  The  doctors  told  me,  and  me 
only,  that  his  life  was  in  danger,  that  nothing  could  save 
him  but  living  for  a time  in  the  South.  Don’t  you  sup- 
pose I should  have  tried  to  manage  it  in  some  other  way 
first  ? I laid  before  him  how  nice  it  would  be  for  me  if  I 
could  go  a journey  abroad  such  as  other  married  ladies 
have  been ; I wept  and  prayed ; I said  he  ought  to  con- 
sider my  circumstances  ; it  was  really  his  duty  to  give  me 
my  own  way  ; and  then  I hinted  that  he  could  of  course 
borrow  the  money.  But  when  I said  that,  Christina,  he 
got  almost  angry.  He  said  I was  giddy,  and  that  it  was 
his  duty  as  a husband  not  to  yield  to  my  tempers  and 
fancies — yes,  that  was  the  word  he  used,  I believe.  Very 
well,  I thought,  c but  saved  your  life  must  be  ; ’ and  then 
I found  a way  to  do  it. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

And  did  not  your  husband  learn  from  your  father  that 
the  money  was  not  from  him  ? 

Nora. 

No;  never.  Father  died  within  those  few  days.  I 
meant  to  have  let  him  into  my  secret  and  begged  him  to 
tell  nothing.  But  as  he  was  so  ill  . . . unhappily  it  was 
not  necessary. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

And  have  you  never  since  then  taken  your  husband  into 
your  confidence  ? 

Nora. 

Dear  me  ! What  can  you  be  thinking  of?  Tell  him, 
when  he  is  so  strict  on  the  point  of  not  borrowing  ? And 
added  to  that — for  Torvald,  with  his  man’s  self-reliance, 
to  know  that  he  owed  anything  to  me  would  be  painful 
and  humiliating  to  the  last  degree.  It  would  entirely 
change  the  relation  between  us ; our  beautiful,  happy 
home  would  never  again  be  what  it  is  now. 


C 2 


20 


NORA. 


Mrs.  Linden. 

Will  you  never  tell  him  ? 

Nora  ( thoughtfully , half- smiling). 

Yes, — later  on  perhaps, — after  many  years,  when  I have 
ceased  to  be  so  pretty  as  I am  now.  You  mustn’t  laugh  at 
me.  Cf  course  I mean  when  Torvald  is  not  so  fond  of 
me  as  he  is  now ; when  he  no  longer  gets  any  amusement 
out  of  seeing  me  skipping  about,  and  dressing  up  and  act- 
ing. Then  it  might  be  rather  a good  plan  to  have  some- 
thing in  the  background.  {Breaking  off .)  What  nonsense  ! 
That  time  will  never  come.  Now,  what  do  you  say  to  my 
grand  secret,  Christina  ? Am  I not  of  some  real  use  ? 
Moreover,  you  will  believe  me  when  I say,  the  affair  gave 
me  much  anxiety.  It  was  really  not  easy  for  me  to  meet 
my  engagements  punctually.  You  must  know,  Christina, 
that  in  the  world  of  business  there  is  something  that  is 
called  paying  off,  and  quarterly  interest,  and  they  are 
always  so  terribly  hard  to  tide  over.  That  compelled  me 
to  pinch  a little,  here  and  there,  wherever  I could.  I 
could  not  lay  anything  aside  out  of  the  housekeeping 
money,  for  of  course  Torvald  had  to  live  well.  Nor  could 
I let  the  children  go  about  badly  dressed.  All  I received 
for  that  purpose  I had  to  expend  on  it.  The  dear,  darling 
children  ! 

Mrs.  Linden. 

And  so  your  own  personal  expenses  had  to  be  restricted  ? 
Poor  Nora ! 

Nora. 

Yes,  naturally.  It  was  the  first  thing  I thought  of. 
Whenever  Torvald  gave  me  money  for  clothes  and  similar 
things,  I never  used  more  than  half  of  it ; I always  bought 
the  simplest  and  cheapest  materials.  It  is  most  fortunate 
that  everything  suits  me  so  well ; so  Torvald  never 
noticed  anything  wrong  about  my  dress.  But  it  was  often 
very  hard,  Christina  dear.  For  it  really  is  very  nice  to  be 
beautifully  dressed.  Now,  isn’t  it? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Indeed  it  is. 

Nora. 

Well,  and  besides  that,  I had  other  sources  of  income. 
Last  winter,  for  instance,  I was  so  lucky  as  to  get  a heap 
of  copying  work  to  do.  Then  I used  to  shut  myself  up 


NORA. 


21 


every  evening  and  write  far  on  into  the  night.  Oh,  some- 
times I was  so  tired,  so  dreadfully  tired.  And  yet  it  was 
amusing  to  work  in  that  way  and  earn  money,  I almost 
felt  as  if  I were  a man. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

But  how  much  have  you  been  able  to  pay  off  from  this 
debt  ? 

Nora. 

Well,  now,  that  I can’t  precisely  say.  In  business  like 
this,  you  see,  it  is  very  hard  to  keep  exact  accounts.  I 
only  know  that  I paid  everything  back  that  I could  scrape 
together.  Sometimes  I really  didn’t  know  what  to  do 
next  {smiles).  Then  I used  to  sit  down  here  and  imagine 
that  a very  rich  old  gentleman  was  in  love  with  me. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

What ! Which'gentleman  ? 

Nora. 

Oh ! a mere  story — that  he  was  now  dead,  and  that 
when  his  will  was  opened,  there  stood  in  large  letters : 

6 Pay  over  at  once  everything  of  which  I die  possessed  to 
that  charming  person,  Mrs.  Nora  Helmer.  . .’ 

Mrs.  Linden. 

But,  dear  Nora,  what  gentleman  was  it? 

Nora. 

Dear,  dear,  can’t  you  understand  ? The  old  gentleman 
never  existed  : it  was  only  what  I used  to  sit  down  and 
think  and  dream,  when  I positively  had  no  notion  where  I 
could  get  any  money  from.  But  let  us  leave  him  alone, — 
the  tiresome  old  creature  may  stay  wherever  he  is  for 
aught  I care ; I don’t  trouble  my  head  about  him,  or  his 
will ; for  now  I am  freed  from  all  further  anxiety  {spring- 
ing up).  Oh,  Christina,  the  thought  of  it  does  one  good. 
Free  from  cares  ! Free,  quite  free.  To  be  able  to  play 
and  romp  about  with  the  children ; to  have  things  tasteful 
and  refined  and  comfortable  in  the  house,  exactly  as 
Torvald  likes  it  all  to  be  ! And  then  the  spring  will  soon 
return  with  the  glorious  blue  sky.  Perhaps  then  we  shall 
be  able  to  have  a short  outing.  Oh  ! perhaps  I shall  get  a 
peep  of  the  sea  again.  Oh,  yes  ! indeed  it  is  glorious  to 
live  and  be  happy. 


22 


NORA. 


( The  hall-door  bell  rings.) 

Mrs.  Linden  ( rising ). 

There  is  a ring.  Perhaps  I had  better  be  going. 

Nora. 

No;  do  stay.  I am  certain  nobody  will  come  in  here. 
It  is  sure  to  be  somebody  to  see  Torvald. 

SCENE  IV. 

The  Preceding.  Ellen.  Then  Krogstad. 

Ellen  (in  the  door  to  the  hall). 

If  you  please,  ma’am,  there  is  a gentleman  who  wishes 
to  speak  to  Mr.  Helmer. 

Nora. 

The  Bank  Manager,  you  mean. 

Ellen. 

Yes,  ma’am,  if  you  please,  ma’am ; — but  I didn’t  know, 
as  the  doctor  is  with  him.  . . 

Nora. 

Where  is  the  gentleman  ? 

Krogstad  (in  the  door-way  to  the  hall). 

It  is  I,  Mrs.  Helmer.  (Ellen  goes.) 

(Mrs.  Linden  is  confused,  recovers  herself  and  turns 
away  to  the  window). 

Nora  (goes  a step  towards  him,  excited , half  aloud). 
You  ? What  does  this  mean  ? What  do  you  want  to 
speak  with  my  husband  about  ? 

Krogstad. 

Bank  business — to  a certain  extent.  I hold  a small 
post  in  the  Joint  Stock  Bank,  and  your  husband  is  now  to 
be  our  chief,  I hear. 

Nora. 

So  you  wish  to  speak  about  . . . ? 

Krogstad. 

Only  about  tiresome  business,  Mrs.  Helmer ; nothing  in 
the  world  else. 


NORA. 


23 


Nora. 

Then  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  take  a seat  in  his  office 
over  there?  (KROGSTAD  goes.  She  bows  indifferently 
while  she  closes  the  door  into  the  hall.  Then  she  walks  to 
the  fire-place  and  looks  to  the  fire.) 

SCENE  V. 

Nora.  Mrs.  Linden. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

N ora,  who  was  that  man  ? 

Nora. 

A Mr.  Krogstad.  He  used  to  be  in  the  law. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes ; he  was. 

Nora. 

Do  you  know  the  man  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I used  to  know  him— many  years  ago.  He  was  in  our 
town  a long  time  as  government  lawyer. 

Nora. 

Yes ; that  is  he. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

How  altered  he  is. 

Nora. 

He  was  very  unhappily  married. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

And  is  he  now  a widower  ? 

Nora. 

With  a whole  troop  of  children.  There!  now  it’s 
burning  properly  (she  puts  the  poker  down  and  pushes  the 
rocking-chair  a little  aside). 

Mrs.  Linden. 

He  takes  up  all  sorts  of  business,  people  say. 

Nora. 

Does  he?  I dare  say.  I don’t  know.  . . But  don’t  let 
us  think  of  business — it  is  so  tiresome. 


24 


NORA. 


SCENE  VI. 

The  Preceding.  Rank  {coming  out  of  Helmer’s 
room). 

Rank  (. still  in  the  door-way , speaking  over  his  shoulder). 

No,  no;  I won’t  disturb  you.  HI  just  go  and  chat  to 
your  wife  for  a little  while  ( shuts  the  door  and  sees  Mrs. 
Linden ).  Oh,  I beg  your  pardon.  I am  in  the  way 
here  too. 

Nora. 

No,  not  in  the  least  ( introduces  them).  Doctor  Rank — 
Mrs.  Linden. 

Rank. 

Oh,  indeed,  that  is  a name  often  heard  in  this  house. 
I think  I just  passed  you  on  the  stairs  as  we  entered. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes ; I go  so  very  slowly.  I can't  bear  much  going 
upstairs. 

Rank. 

Oh,  I see ; some  slight  accident. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

It  is  really  due  to  over-fatigue. 

Rank. 

No  worse  than  that?  Ah!  then  you  have  come  to 
town  to  find  some  little  recreation  during  the  Christmas 
holiday-time. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I have  come  here  to  look  for  work. 

Rank. 

May  I ask  if  that  is  an  approved  remedy  for  over- 
fatigue ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

One  must  live,  Doctor  Rank. 

Rank. 

Yes,  the  general  view  of  the  matter  appears  to  be  that 
it  is  necessary. 

Nora. 

Come,  Dr.  Rank,  you  yourself  want  to  live. 


NORA. 


25 


Rank. 

To  be  sure  I do.  However  miserable  I am,  I should 
like  to  drag  on  as  long  as  possible.  And  my  patients  all 
cherish  the  same  wish.  It  is  just  the  same  with  people 
who  are  morally  rotten.  At  this  very  moment  Helmer 
has  got  talking  to  him  precisely  such  a moral  hospital- 
inmate  as  I mean. 

Mrs.  Linden  ( catching  her  breath). 

Ah! 

Nora. 

Whom  do  you  mean  ? 

Rank. 

Oh,  it’s  a fellow  called  Krogstad,  a lawyer,  a man 
you  know  nothing  whatever  about — rotten  to  the  very 
core  of  his  character.  But  even  he  began  the  convers- 
ation, as  though  he  were  going  to  say  something  very 
important,  by  saying  he  must  live. 

Nora. 

Indeed?  Then  what  did  he  want  to  talk  to  Torvald 
about  ? 

Rank. 

I really  don’t  know  that ; I only  gathered  that  it  had 
something  to  do  with  the  Jcint  Stock  Bank. 

Nora. 

I didn’t  know  that  Krog — that  this  Mr.  Krogstad  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  Bank. 

Rank. 

He  has  some  sort  of  post  there.  (To  Mrs.  Linden .)  I 
don’t  know  whether  in  your  part  of  the  country  too  there 
are  to  be  found  the  sort  of  men  who  haunt  the  place  only 
to  scent  out  moral  rottenness,  and  thus  get  some  advan- 
tageous post  or  another.  The  healthy  have  no  chance 
against  them. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Well,  after  all  it  is  better  to  open  the  door  to  the  sick 
and  get  them  safe  in.# 

Rank  ( shrugging  his  shoulders ). 

Yes,  so  people  say.  And  it  is  that  very  consideration 
which  turns  society  into  an  hospital. 


26 


NORA. 


(Nora,  deep  in  her  own  thoughts , breaks  into  half-choked 
laughter  and  claps  her  hands.)] 

Rank. 

What  are  you  laughing  about  ? Do  you  know  what 
society  is  ? 

Nora. 

What  do  I care  about  stupid  ‘ society  ’ ? I was  laugh- 
ing over  something  quite  different,  something  awfully 
funny.  Tell  me.  Doctor  Rank,  are  all  the  people  employed 
at  the  Bank  now  dependent  on  Torvald  ? 

Rank. 

Is  that  what  strikes  you  as  so  awfully  funny? 

Nora  (smiles  and  hums). 

Leave  me  alone,  leave  me  alone  (walks  about  the  room)- 
Yes,  to  think  that  we — that  Torvald  has  now  so  much 
influence  over  so  many  people  really  does  give  me  enor- 
mous satisfaction  (takes  the  box  from  her  pocket).  Doctor, 
will  you  have  a sweetmeat  ? 

Rank. 

Oh,  dear,  dear.  Sweetmeats  ! I thought  they  were 
contraband  here. 

Nora. 

Yes ; . . . but  Christina  brought  me  these. 

Mrs.  Ltnden. 

What  did  you  say,  dear  ? I ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  well,  dear  me  ! You  needn’t  be  so  frightened. 
You  couldn’t  possibly  know  that  Torvald  has  forbidden 
them.  The  fact  is,  he  is  afraid  I might  spoil  my  teeth. 
But,  oh,  bother,  just  for  once.  It  won’t  hurt,  will  it, 
Doctor  Rank?  (Puts  a sweetmeat  into  his  mouth.)  And 
you  too,  Christina.  And  I will  have  one  at  the  same 
time— only  a tiny  one,  or  at  most  two  (walks  about 
again).  Yes,  I really  am  now  in  a state  of  extraordinary 
happiness.  There  is  only  one  thing  in  the  world  that  I 
should  really  like. 

Rank. 


Well,  and  what’s  that? 


NORA. 


27 


Nora. 

There’s  something  that  I should  so  like  to  say, — but  for 
Torvald  to  hear  it. 

Rank. 

Then  why  don’t  you  say  it  to  him  ? 

Nora. 

Because  I daren’t,  for  it  sounds  so  ugly. 

Mrs,  Linden. 

Ugly? 

Rank. 

In  that  case  I would  not  advise  you  to  say  it.  But  you 
might  say  it  to  us,  at  any  rate  . . Pluck  up  your  courage. 
What  is  it  that  you  would  like  to  say  in  Helmer’s 
presence  . . ? 

Nora. 

I should  like  to  shout  with  all  my  heart  ....  Oh  ! 
dash  it  all. 

Rank. 

Are  you  out  of  your  mind  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

My  dearest  N ora  ! 

Rank. 

Say  it.  There  he  is. 

Nora  ( hides  the  sweetmeat  box). 

Hush-sh-sh.  ( Helmer  comes  out  of  his  room,  hat  in 
hand , with  his  overcoat  on  his  arm  ) 


SCENE  VII. 

The  Preceding.  Helmer. 

Nora  {going  towards  him). 

Well,  Torvald  dear,  and  have  you  got  rid  of  him? 
Helmer. 

Yes  ; he’s  gone  at  last. 

Nora. 

May  I introduce  you  ? — this  is  Christina,  who  has  come 
to  town. 

Helmer. 

Christina  ? Pardon  me,  but  I don’t  know  . . t 


28 


NORA. 


N ORA. 

Mrs.  Linden,  Torvald  dear — Christina  Linden. 

H ELMER  ( to  Mrs . Linden ). 

Ah,  indeed  ! You  are  an  early  friend  of  my  wife’s,  I 
dare  say. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes  ; we  knew  each  other  in  old  times. 

Nora. 

And  now  only  fancy  ! She  has  taken  this  long  journey 
in  order  to  speak  to  you. 

Helmer. 

To  speak  to  me  ! 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Well,  not  actually  . . , 

Nora. 

The  fact  is,  Christina  is  extraordinarily  clever  in  count- 
ing-house work  to  begin  with,  and  then  she  has  such  a 
great  wish  to  work  under  a really  able  man,  in  order  to 
learn  even  more  than  she  knows  already. 

Helmer  (to  Mrs . Linden ). 

Very  sensible  indeed. 

Nora. 

And  when  she  heard  you  were  made  Bank  Manager, — 
you  see  the  ‘ Telegraph  ’ has  announced  it  to  all  the  world, — 
she  started  off  and  came  here  as  fast  as  she  could  ; and, 
Torvald  dear,  for  my  sake  you  can  do  something  for 
Christina.  Now  can’t  you? 

Helmer. 

It  might  not  be  impossible.  I conclude  you  are  a 
widow  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes. 

Helmer. 

And  have  already  had  some  experience  in  office-work  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

A good  deal. 

Helmer. 

Well,  then,  it  is  highly  probable  I can  find  a niche 
for  you. 


NORA. 


29 


Nora  ( clapping  her  hands ). 

There  now  ! there  now  ! 

Helmer. 

You  have  just  come  at  a lucky  moment,  Mrs.  Linden. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Oh  ! how  can  I thank  you  enough  ? 

Helmer  {smiling). 

There  is  no  occasion  to  {puts  his  overcoat  on).  But 
to-day  you  must  excuse  me. 

Rank. 

Wait ; I’ll  go  with  you  {fetches  his  fur-lined  coat  from 
the  hall  and  warms  it  at  the  fire). 

Nora. 

Don’t  be  out  long,  dear  Torvald. 

Helmer. 

Only  an  hour;  not  longer. 

Nora. 

Are  you  going  also,  Christina  ? 

Mrs.  Linden  ( putting  on  her  walking  things ). 

Yes ; I must  be  off  now  and  look  for  lodgings. 

Helmer. 

Then  perhaps  we  can  go  together. 

Nora  {helping  her). 

How  vexatious  that  we  should  have  no  spare  room  to 
offer  you  ; but  it  really  is  quite  impossible. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

What  are  you  dreaming  about  ? Good-bye,  dear  Nora, 
and  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness. 

Nora. 

Good-bye  for  a little  while.  Of  course  you’ll  come  back 
this  evening.  And  you  too,  Doctor  Rank.  What?  if 
you  feel  well  enough  ? Of  course  you  will.  Only  be  sure 
you  wrap  up  warmly.  {They  go  out  talking  into  the  hall . 
Outside  on  the  doorsteps  are  heard  childrens  voices.) 
There  they  are  ! there  they  are  ! {She  runs  to  the  door 
and  opens  it.) 


30 


NOHA. 


SCENE  VIII. 

The  Preceding.  Mary  Ann.  The  Children. 
Nora. 

Come  in  ! come  in  ! ( bends  down  and  kisses  the  children). 
Oh  ! my  sweet  darling  . . . Do  you  see  them,  Chris- 
tina ? Aren’t  they  darlings  ? 

Rank. 

Don’t  let’s  stand  here  in  the  draught  talking  folly. 

H ELMER. 

Come,  Mrs.  Linden ; people  who  are  not  mothers  won’t 
be  able  to  stand  it  if  they  stay  here  any  longer.  {Rank, 
Helmer , and  Mrs.  Linden  go.  Mary  Ann  enters  the  room 
with  the  children , Nora  also , and  shuts  the  door.) 

SCENE  IX. 

Nora.  Mary  Ann.  The  Children. 

Nora. 

How  fresh  and  merry  you  look  ! And  what  rosy  cheeks 
you  have  ! — like  apples  and  roses.  {The  children  talk  all 
at  once  to  her  during  the  following. ) And  so  you  have 
been  having  great  fun  ? That  is  splendid.  Oh,  really  ! you 
have  been  giving  Emmy  and  Bob  a slide,  both  at  once. 
Dear  me  ! you  are  quite  a man,  Ivar.  Oh,  give  her  to 
me  a little,  Mary  Ann.  My  sweet-heart!  {Takes  the 
sinallest  from  the  nurse  and  dances  it  up  and  down. ) Yes, 
yes,  mother  will  dance  with  Bob  too.  What  ! did  you 
have  a game  of  snow-balls  as  well  ? Oh  ! I ought  to  have 
been  there.  No,  leave  them,  Mary  Ann  ; I will  take 
their  things  off.  No,  no,  let  me  do  it ; it  is  so  amusing. 
Go  to  the  nursery  for  a while  ; you  look  so  frozen.  You’ll 
find  some  hot  coffee  on  the  stove.  ( The  nurse  goes  to  the 
room  on  the  left.  Nora  takes  off  the  children' s things  and 
throws  them  down  anywhere , while  she  lets  the  children 
talk  to  each  other  and  to  her.)  Really  ! Then  there  was 
a big  dog  there  who  ran  after  you  all  the  way  home? 
But  I’m  sure  he  didn’t  bite  you?  No  ; dogs  don’t  bite 
dear  dolly  little  children.  Don’t  peep  into  those  parcels, 
Ivar.  You  want  to  t now  what  that  is  ? Yes,  you  are  the 
only  people  who  shall  know.  Oh,  no,  no,  that  is  not 
pretty.  What ! must  we  have  a game  ? What  shall  it  be, 


NORA. 


31 


then?  Hide  and  seek?  Yes,  let  us  play  hide  and  seek. 
Bob  shall  hide  first.  Am  I to  ? Very  well  ; I will  hide 
first.  (She  and  the  children  play , with  laughing  and 
shouting , in  the  room  and  the  adjacent  one  to  the  right. 
At  last  Nora  hides  under  the  table;  the  children  come 
rushing  in  to  look  for  her , but  cannot  find  her , hear  her 
half -choked  laughter , rush  to  the  table , lift  up  the  cover , and 
see  her.  Stormy  shouts.  She  creeps  out , as  though  to 
frighten  them.  Fresh  shouts.  Meanwhile  there  has  been 
a knock  at  the  hall  door.  No  one  has  heard  it.  Now  the 
door  is  half  opened,  and  Krogstad  is  seen.  He  waits  a 
little  ; the  game  is  renewed .) 

SCENE  X. 

Nora.  The  Children.  Krogstad. 
Krogstad. 

Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Helmer — 

Nora  ( with  a suppressed  cry , turns  round  and  halj 
jumps  up). 

Oh  ! What  do  you  want  ? 

Krogstad. 

Excuse  me;  the  inner  hall  door  was  ajar — somebody 
must  have  forgotten  to  shut  it. 

N ORA  (standing  up). 

My  husband  is  not  at  home,  Mr.  Krogstad. 

Krogstad. 

I know  it. 

Nora. 

Indeed  ! Then  what  do  you  want  here  ? 

Krogstad. 

To  say  a few  words  to  you. 

Nora. 

To  me  ? (To  the  children  softly.)  Go  in  to  the  nursery 
to  Mary  Ann.  What,  dear?  No,  the  strange  man  won’t 
hurt  Mamma. . When  he  is  gone  we  will  go  on  playing. 
(She  leads  the  children  into  the  left-hand  room  and  shuts 
the  door  behind  them.) 

Nora  ( uneasy , in  suspense). 

It  was  with  me  you  wished  to  speak  ? 


32 


NORA. 


Krogstad. 

Yes. 

Nora. 

Today  ? But  it  is  not  yet  the  first — 

Krogstad. 

No;  to-day  is  Christmas  Eve.  It  will  depend  upon 
yourself  what  kind  of  Christmas  happiness  is  granted  you. 

Nora. 

What  do  you  really  want  of  me  ? I certainly  can’t  to- 
day— 

Krogstad. 

We  won’t  discuss  that  beforehand.  It  is  about  another 
matter.  You  have  a minute  to  spare  ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  yes,  certainly  ; I have  that,  although — 

Krogstad. 

Good.  I was  sitting  over  there  in  the  Restaurant,  and 
I saw  your  husband  cross  the  street. 

Nora. 

Yes  ; well  ? 

Krogstad. 

With  a lady. 

Nora. 

And  what  then  ? 

Krogstad. 

May  I ask  if  the  lady  was  a certain  Mrs.  Linden. 
Nora. 

Yes. 

Krogstad. 

Who  has  just  arrived  ? 

Nora. 

Yes.  This  morning. 

Krogstad. 

I suppose  she  is  an  intimate  friend  of  yours. 

Nora. 

Certainly  she  is.  But  I don’t  understand  . . . 
Krogstad. 

I used  to  know  her  too. 


NORA. 


33 


Nora. 

I know  you  did. 

Krogstad. 

Really?  Then  you  know  all  about  it.  I thought  as 
much.  Now,  may  I ask  whether  Mrs.  Linden  is  to  have 
some  post  in  the  Bank  ? 

N ORA. 

How  can  you  allow  yourself  to  catechise  me  in  this  way — 
you,  a subordinate  official  of  my  husband’s  ? But  since  you 
have  asked,  you  shall  know.  Yes, .Mrs.  Linden  is  to  be 
employed  at  the  Bank.  And  it  is  1 who  took  her  by  the 
hand,  Mr.  Krogstad.  Now  you  know. 

Krogstad. 

Then  my  guess  was  right. 

Nora  ( walking  up  and  down). 

Oh  ! I should  imagine  one  has  a little  wee  bit  of  influ- 
ence. It  doesn’t  follow  that  because  one  is  only  a woman 
that.  . . . When  one  is  in  a dependent  position,  Mr. 
Krogstad,  one  ought  to  take  the  greatest  care  not  to  offend 
anybody  who — hm — 

Krogstad. 

Who  has  influence? 

Nora. 

Yes ; just  so. 

Krogstad  ( taking  another  tone), 

Mrs.  Helmer,  will  you  have  the  kindness  to  employ  your 
influence  in  my  favour  ? 

Nora. 

What  ? How  do  you  mean  ? 

Krogstad. 

Will  you  be  so  obliging  as  to  take  care  that  I retain  my 
dependent  position  at  the  Bank? 

Nora. 

What  is  all  this  about?  Who  wants  to  take  your  post 
away,  then  ? 

Kkogstad. 

Oh,  you  needn’t  pretend  ignorance  towards  me.  I can 
very  well  comprehend  that  it  cannot  be  pleasant  for  your 
friend  to  meet  me ; and  I can  also  comprehend  now 
whom  I have  to  thank  for  my  dismissal. 

D 


• 34 


NORA. 


Nora. 

But  I assure  you  ... 

Krogstad. 

Oh,  yes ; make  no  bones  about  it : there  is  yet  time, 
and  I advise  you  to  use  your  influence  to  prevent  it. 

Nora. 

But,  Mr.  Krogstad,  I have  absolutely  no  influence. 

Krogstad. 

None?  It  seems  to  me  you  were  saying  just  now 
yourself — 

Nora. 

Of  course  you  were  not  to  understand  me  in  that  sense. 
I ! How  can  you  think  I should  have  such  influence  as 
that  over  my  husband  ? 

Krogstad. 

Oh,  I’ve  known  your  husband  since  our  College  days. 
I don’t  think  he  is  firmer  than  other  husbands  are. 

Nora. 

If  you  talk  disparagingly  of  my  husband  I must  request 
you  to  go. 

Krogstad. 

You  are  very  courageous,  my  dear  Madam. 

Nora. 

I am  no  longer  afraid  of  you.  When  New  Year’s  Day 
is  over  I shall  soon  be  out  of  the  whole  difficulty. 

Krogstad  ( controlling  himself  more). 

Now  just  listen  to  me,  Mrs.  Helmer.  If  needs  be,  I 
shall  fight  as  though  it  were  for  my  life  in  order  to  keep 
my  small  post  in  the  Bank. 

Nora. 

Yes;  it  looks  as  if  you  would. 

Krogstad. 

It  is  not  only  on  account  of  the  pay ; that  is  the  part  of  it 
that  least  matters  to  me.  But  it  is  something  else.  Well, 

I suppose  I’d  better  make  a clean  breast  of  it.  Look  here  ; 
it’s  this.  Of  course  you  know  just  what  everybody  else 
knows — that  many  years  ago  I once  got  into  trouble. 


NORA. 


35 


Nora. 

I think  I heard  something  of  the  sort. 

Krogstad. 

The  matter  never  came  into  Court ; but  from  that 
moment  all  paths  were,  as  it  were,  barricaded  to  me.  Then 
I threw  myself  into  the  kind  of  business  which  you  know 
about.  I was  obliged  to  snatch  at  something,  and  I may 
say  this  much  : I wasn’t  the  worst  of  the  men  in  that  line. 
But  now  I ought  to  clear  out  of  all  business  of  that  sort. 
My  sons  are  growing  up ; on  their  account  I must  try  to 
win  back  as  much  respectability  as  I possibly  can.  In 
that  direction  this  post  at  the  Bank  was  the  first  step. 
And  now  your  husband  wants  to  push  me  back  into  the 
mire. 

Nora. 

But  I do  assure  you,  Mr.  Krogstad,  it  is  really  not  in  my 
power  to  help  you. 

Krogstad. 

Because  you  will  not ; but  I have  the  means  of  com- 
pelling you  to  help 'me. 

Nora. 

You  don’t  intend  to  tell  my  husband  that  I owe  you 
money  ? 

Krogstad. 

Hm.  Supposing  I were  to  tell  him  ? 

Nora. 

It  would  be  scandalous  of  you  ( with  suppressed  tears'). 
This  secret,  which  is  my  joy  and  my  pride,  he  shall  not 
learn  in  such  a vulgar,  blunt  way — and  from  you  too. 
You  want  to  put  me  to  the  most  terrible  annoyance. 

Krogstad. 

Only  annoyance  ? 

Nora  {hotly). 

But  just  do  it ; the  consequences  will  be  worse  for  you 
than  anybody  else ; for  then  my  husband  will  see  clearly 
what  a bad  man  you  are,  and  then  you  certainly  will  not 
keep  your  post. 

Krogstad. 

I asked  if  it  were  only  domestic  unpleasantness  that  you 
were  afraid  of? 


D 2 


36 


NOE;  A. 


Nora. 

If  my  husband  gets  to  know  about  it  he  will  of  course 
pay  the  rest  without  delay  ; and  then  we  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  you. 

Krogstad  {stepping  a pace  nearer). 

Listen,  Mrs.  Helmer  : either  you  have  rather  a weak 
memory,  or  you  don’t  know  much  about  business.  In  that 
case  I must  get  you  to  go  more  deeply  into  the  matter. 

Nora. 

How  will  you  do  that  ? 

Krogstad. 

When  your  husband  was  ill,  you  came  to  me  to  borrow 
/300  of  me. 

Nora. 

I knew  nobody  else. 

Krogstad. 

I promised  to  find  you  the  money. 

Nora. 

And  you  did  find  it. 

Krogstad. 

I promised  to  find  you  the  money  under  certain  con- 
ditions. You  were  just  then  so  excited  about  your  hus- 
band’s illness,  and  so  anxious  to  get  hold  of  the  money  for 
your  journey,  that  you  probably  did  not  think  twice  about 
the  difficulties  it  involved.  It  is  therefore  not  superfluous 
for  me  to  remind  you  of  them.  Now,  I promised  to  find 
you  the  money  in  exchange  for  an  acknowledgment  which 
I drew  up. 

Nora. 

Yes,  and  I signed  it. 

Krogstad. 

Very  well.  But  then  I added  a few  lines  whereby  your 
father  became  security  for  the  debt.  Your  father  was  to 
sign  this. 

Nora. 

Was  to  ? He  did  sign. 

Krogstad. 

I had  left  the  date  blank  : that  is  to  say,  your  father 
was  to  insert  the  date  on  which  he  signed  the  document. 
Do  you  recollect  this,  Mrs.  Helmer  ? 


NORA. 


37 


Nora. 

Yes,  I believe.  . . 

Krogstad. 

Thereupon  I gave  you  the  piece  of  paper  that  you 
might  send  it  to  your  father.  Is  not  that  so  ? 

Nora. 

Yes. 

Krogstad. 

And  of  course  you  did  so  without  delay  ; for  within  five 
or  six  days  you  brought  me  back  the  acknowledgment 
duly  signed  by  your  father.  Then  you  received  from  me 
the  sum  promised. 

Nora. 

Well,  to  be  sure ; have  I not  paid  it  back  punctually  ? 

Krogstad. 

Very  fairly ; yes.  But  let  us  return  to  the  matter  we 
were  speaking  of.  You  were  in  great  trouble  at  the  time, 
Mrs.  Helmer  ? 

Nora. 

I was  indeed. 

Krogstad. 

Your  father,  too,  was  very  seriously  ill,  I believe. 

Nora. 

He  was  on  his  death-bed. 

Krogstad. 

And  died  soon  after  ? 

Nora. 

Yes. 

Krogstad. 

Now,  just  tell  me,  Mrs.  Helmer,  whether  by  any  chance 
you  happen  to  recollect  which  day  he  died — which  day  of 
the  month,  1 mean. 

Nora. 

Father  died  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  September. 

Krogstad. 

Quite  correct ; I have  made  inquiries  about  it.  That 
is  why  1 cannot  explain  a remarkable  circumstance  {draws 
from  his  pocket  a piece  of  writing). 


38 


NORA. 


Nora. 

A remarkable  circumstance  ? I do  not  know.  . . . 

Krogstad. 

The  remarkable  circumstance,  dear  Mrs.  Helmer,  is, 
that  your  father  signed  this  acknowledgment  three  days 
after  his  death. 

Nora. 

What  ? I don’t  understand. 

Krogstad. 

Your  father  died  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  September. 
But  just  look  here.  Here  your  father  has  dated  his 
signature  October  the  2nd.  Is  not  that  remarkable,  Mrs. 
Helmer  ? 

(Nora  is  silent.') 

Krogstad. 

Can  you  explain  that  to  me  ? 

(Nora  continues  silent .) 

Krogstad. 

It  is  also  striking  that  the  words  * October  the  2nd  ’ and 
the  year  are  not  in  your  father’s  handwriting,  but  in  one 
which  I believe  I know.  Now  this  may  be  explained  by 
supposing  that  your  father  forgot  to  date  it,  and  that  some- 
body added  the  date  by  guess  work  before  the  fact  of  his 
death  was  known.  There  is  nothing  improper  in  that 
proceeding.  But  it  is  the  signature  of  his  name  that  my 
question  relates  to.  And  is  it  genuine,  Mrs.  Helmer? 
Was  it  really  your  father  who  with  his  own  hand  set  his 
name  here  ? 

Nora  {after  a short  silence  throws  her  head  hack  and  looks 
defiantly  at  him). 

No;  it  is  I who  wrote  papa’s  name  there. 

Krogstad. 

And  are  you  aware,  moreover,  that  that  is  a dangerous 
admission  ? 

Nora. 

Why?  You  will  soon  get  your  money. 

Krogstad. 

May  I be  permitted  one  more  question : Why  did  you 
not  send  the  document  to  your  father  ? 


NORA. 


39 


Nora. 

It  was  impossible.  Father  was  then  dangerously  ill. 
If  I had  asked  him  for  his  signature  I should  also  have 
had  to  tell  him  what  I wanted  the  money  for.  But  in  his 
condition  I really  could  not  tell  him  that  my  husband’s 
life  hung  by  a thread.  It  was  quite  impossible. 

Krogstad. 

Then  it  would  have  been  better  for  you  to  give  up  the 
journey  abroad. 

Nora. 

That  was  impossible  too.  My  husband’s  life  depended 
on  that  journey.  I could  not  give  it  up. 

Krogstad. 

But  did  you  not  consider,  then,  that  it  was  a fraud 
on  me  ? 

Nora. 

I could  not  take  any  heed  of  that.  I did  not  care  in  the 
least  about  you.  I could  not  endure  you  on  account  of  all 
the  hard-hearted  difficulties  you  made,  although  you  knew 
how  ill  my  husband  was. 

Krogstad. 

Mrs.  Helmer,  you  have  evidently  no  clear  idea  what 
you  have  been  really  guilty  of.  But  I can  assure  you  it 
was  nothing  different  from  this,  nor  worse  than  this,  that 
I once  did,  and  that  destroyed  my  entire  position  in 
society. 

Nora. 

You  ? Do  you  want  to  make  me  believe  that  you  would 
have  dared  to  do  a courageous  act  in  order  to  save  your 
wife’s  life  ? 

Krogstad. 

The  laws  inquire  little  into  motives. 

Nora. 

Then  we  must  have  very  bad  laws. 

Krogstad. 

Bad,  or  not  bad, — if  I lay  this  document  before  a court 
of  law  you  will  be  judged  according  to  the  laws. 

Nora. 

That  I do  not  believe.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  a 


40 


NORA. 


daughter  has  not  the  right  to  spare  her  old  father,  on  his 
death-bed,  care  and  worry  ? Do  you  mean  to  say  that  a 
wife  has  not  the  right  to  save  her  husband’s  life  ? I don’t 
know  the  law  precisely,  but  I am  convinced  that  some- 
where or  another  the  law  must  contain  leave  for  me  to 
have  done  such  things.  And  you  don’t  know  it — you,  a 
lawyer.  You  must  be  a bad  lawyer,  Mr.  Krogstad. 

Krogstad. 

I dare  say.  But  business — such  business  as  ours  here — 
I do  understand;  you  believe  that?  Very  well.  Now, 
do  as  you  please.  But  this  I do  say  to  you  : that  if  I am 
turned  out  of  society  a second  time,  you  shall  keep  me 
company.  ( He  bows  and  goes  out  through  the  hall.) 

SCENE  XI. 

Nora.  Then  the  Children. 

N ORA  ( stands  awhile  thinking , then  she  throws 
her  head  back). 

Never  ! To  try  to  frighten  me  ! I am  not  so  simple  as 
that.  ( Begins  folding  the  children's  clothes ; pauses .) 
But  . . . no ; but  that  is  quite  impossible.  I did  it 
from  love. 

The  Children  {in  the  left  door). 

Mamma,  the  strange  man  is  gone  now. 

Nora. 

Yes,  yes  ; I know.  But  don’t  tell  any  one  about  the 
strange  man.  Do  you  hear?  Not  even  papa. 

The  Children. 

No,  mamma  ; but  now  will  you  play  with  us  again  ? 
Nora. 

No,  no  ; not  now. 

The  Children. 

Oh,  do,  mamma.  You  did  promise. 

Nora. 

Yes  ; but  I can’t  just  now.  Run  to  the  nursery;  I have 
so  much  to  do.  Run  along,  run  along,  my  dear,  good 
children.  {She  compels  them  gently  to  go  into  the  inner 
room , and  shuts  the  door  behind  them.) 


NORA. 


4i 


SCENE  XII. 


Nora.  Then  Ellen. 

Nora  ( throws  herself  on  the  sofa , takes  a piece  of 
embroidery  and  does  a few  stitches , but  soon  pauses). 

No  ( throws  the  embroidery  down , stands  up , goes  to  the 
door  towards  the  hall , and  calls  out).  Ellen,  bring  in  the 
Christmas-tree.  ( Goes  to  the  left-hand  table  and  opens  the 
drawer ; stands  again , thoughtful).  No  ; but  that  is 
quite  impossible. 

Ellen  ( with  the  Christmas-tree). 

Where  shall  I stand  it,  if  you  please,  ma’am? 

Nora. 

There,  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

Ellen. 

Shall  I bring  in  anything  else  ? 

Nora. 

No,  thank  you;  I have  what  I want. 

(Ellen,  who  has  put  down  the  tree , goes  out  again.) 

Nora  ( busy  dressing  the  tree). 

There  must  be  a candle  here,  and  some  flowers  there. — - 
The  horrid  man  ! — Nonsense,  nonsense  ; there  is  nothing 
wrong  in  it.  . . . The  Christmas-tree  shall  be  beautiful. 
I will  do  everything  that  gives  you  pleasure,  Torvald;  I 
will  sing,  and  dance,  and  . . . 

SCENE  XIII. 

Nora.  H elmer  {from  out  of  doors , with  a bundle  \ 
of  documents  under  his  arm). 


Nora. 

Oh  ! are  you  back  already  ? 

H ELMER. 

Yes.  Has  anybody  been  here  ? 


Here?  No. 


Nora. 


Helmer. 

Curious  ! I saw  Krogstad  come  out  of  the  house. 


42 


NORA. 


Nora. 

Did  you  ? Oh,  yes,  it  is  true  he  was  here  for  a minute. 

Helmer. 

Nora,  I can  see  from  your  manner  he  has  been  here,  and 
asked  you  to  put  in  a good  word  for  him. 

Nora. 

Yes. 

Helmer. 

And  you  were  to  do  it  as  of  your  own  accord  ? You 
were  to  say  nothing  to  me  of  his  having  been  here  ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  Torvald;  but— 

Helmer. 

Nora,  Nora  ! and  you  could  bring  yourself  to  do  that? 
to  allow  yourself  to  be  drawn  into  talk  with  such  a man, 
and  give  him  a promise.  And  then  tell  me  an  untruth 
about  it  ? 

Nora. 

An  untruth  ? 

Helmer. 

Didn’t  you  say  nobody  had  been  here?  ( Threatens 
with  his  finger .)  My  lark  must  never  do  that  again.  A 
little  singing  bird  must  never  sing  false  notes  ( puts  his 
arm  round  her).  That’s  true,  isn’t  it?  Yes,  I knew  it 
( lets  her  go).  And  now  we’ll  say  no  more  about  it  ( sits 
down  before  the  fire).  Oh,  how  comfortable  and  quiet  it 
is  here  ( glances  into  his  documents). 

N ora  (busy  with  the  tree , after  a short  silence). 

Torvald. 

Helmer. 

Yes. 

Nora. 

I am  so  excessively  delighted  over  the  Steinbergs 
costume  ball  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

Helmer. 

And  I am  so  excessively  curious  to  see  what  you  will 
surprise  me  with. 

Nora. 

Oh  ! that’s  the  tiresome  part  of  it. 


NORA. 


43 


Helmer. 

How  do  you  mean  ? 

Nora. 

I can’t  find  anything  to  suit  me.  Everything  seems  so 
silly  and  meaningless. 

Helmer. 

Has  my  little  Nora  arrived  at  that  opinion  ? 

Nora  ( behind  his  chair , with  her  arms  on  the  back). 

Are  you  very  busy,  Torvald. 

Helmer. 

Eh? 

Nora. 

What  sort  of  papers  are  those  ? 

Helmer. 

Papers  concerning  the  Bank. 

Nora. 

Already  ? 

Helmer. 

I got  the  retiring  authorities  to  give  me  full  power 
beforehand  to  make  the  necessary  changes  in  the  staff  and 
method  of  working.  This  is  what  I must  spend  my 
Christmas  wee.v  in  arranging.  By  New  Year’s  Day  I will 
have  everything  in  order. 

Nora. 

Then  this  is  why  that  poor  Krogstad  . . . 

Helmer. 

H— m.  . . . 

Nora  (leaning  further  over  the  chair , strokes  his  hair). 

If  your  work  were  not  so  pressing  I should  ask  you  a 
great,  great  favour,  Torvald. 

Helmer. 

Let’s  hear  it.  What  can  it  be  ? 

Nora. 

Nobody  has  such  refined  taste  as  you  have.  Now  I 
should  so  love  to  look  well  at  the  costume  ball.  Torvald, 
dear,  couldn’ t you  take  me  in  hand  and  settle  what  char- 
acter I am  to  appear  in,  and  how  my  costume  ought  to  be 
arranged  ? 


44 


NORA. 


H ELMER. 

Is  that  obstinate  little  head  of  yours  puzzled  at  last,  and 
looking  about  for  somebody  to  save  it  from  destruction  ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  Torvald.  Without  you  I am  utterly  helpless. 

Helmer. 

Well,  well;  I’ll  think  it  over;  we  will  soon  hit  upon 
something  together. 

Nora. 

Oh,  how  kind  and  good  that  is  of  you  (goes  to  the  tree 
again;  pause).  How  pretty  the  red  flowers  look.  But, 
by-the-bye,  was  the  . . . thing  which  Krogstad  got  into 
trouble  about  years  ago  really  so  bad  ? 

Helmer. 

Forged  a name,  that’s  all.  Have  you  any  notion  what 
that  means? 

Nora. 

Mustn’t  he  have  done  it  from  need  ? 

Helmer. 

Yes,  or  as  so  many  others  do  it,  from  heedlessness.  I 
am  not  so  heartless  as  to  judge  anybody  absolutely  from 
such  a transaction  alone. 

Nora. 

No  ; that’s  just  what  I thought  you  would  say,  Torvald. 

Helmer. 

Many  a man  can  lift  himself  up  again  morally  if  he 
openly  recognises  his  offence  and  undergoes  its  punish- 
ment. 

Nora. 

Punishment  ? 

Helmer. 

But  Krogstad  didn’t  set  about  it  in  that  way  : he  tried 
to  wont  his  way  out  of  it  by  dodges  and  tricks,  and  by 
that  very  means  he  has  morally  ruined  himself. 

Nora. 

Do  you  think  that  it  ...  ? 

Helmer. 

Only  just  think  how  a man  so  conscious  of  guilt  as  that 


NORA. 


45 


must  go  about  everywhere  lying,  and  a hypocrite,  and  an 
actor ; how  he  must  wear  a mask  towards  his  neighbour, 
and  even  his  wife  and  children,  his  own  children.  That’s 
the  worst,  Nora  ? 

Nora. 

Why? 

Helmer. 

Because  such  a misty  atmosphere  of  lying  brings  conta- 
gion into  the  whole  family.  Every  breath  the  children 
draw  contains  some  germ  of  evil. 

Nora  ( closer  behind  him). 

Are  you  quite  sure  ? 

Helmer. 

As  a lawyer,  darling  child,  I have  remarked  that  many 
a time.  Nearly  all  men  who  go  to  ruin  early  have  had 
untruthful  mothers. 

Nora. 

Why  should  it  be — mothers  ? 

Helmer. 

In  most  cases  it  comes  from  the  mother ; but  the  father 
naturally  works  in  the  same  direction.  Every  lawyer  has 
reason  to  know  that.  And  Krogstad  has  actually  been 
poisoning  his  own  children  for  years  past  by  lying  and 
acting  a part;  that  is  precisely  why  I call  him  morally  lost. 
( Stretches  out  his  hands  to  her.)  This  is  the  reason  why 
my  dear  little  Nora  must  not  plead  on  his  behalf.  Shake 
hands  upon  it.  Come,  come  ; what’s  that  ? Give  me 
your  hand.  That’s  right.  Then  it’s  a bargain.  I do 
assure  you  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  me  to  work 
with  him.  I feel  bodily  discomfort  when  I am  in  any 
proximity  to  such  people. 

Nora  ( takes  her  hand  away  and  stalks  to  the  other  side 
of  the  Christmas-tree ). 

How  warm  it  is  here.  And  I have  so  much  to  do  still. 

Helmer  (rises  and  puts  his  papers  together). 

Yes,  I must  take  care  to  get  some  of  these  papers  read 
through  before  dinner  ; and  I will  think  over  your  costume 
too.  And  I should  not  be  surprised  if  I were  to  get  ready 
some  trifle  that  might  be  hung  in  gilt  paper  on  the 
Christmas-tree.  ( Lays  his  hand  upon  her  head.)  My  dear 


46 


NOE, -A. 


little  lark.  (He  goes  into  his  room  and  shuts  the  door 
behind  him. ) 

SCENE  XIV. 

Nora.  Then  Mary  Ann. 

Nora  (slowly,  after  a pause'). 

What  was  it?  It  can’t  be  so  . . That  is  impossible. 
It  must  be  impossible. 

Mary  Ann  (in  the  left  door.) 

The  little  ones  are  begging  so  prettily  to  come  in  to 
mamma. 

Nora. 

No,  no  ; don’t  let  them  come  in  to  me.  Let  them  stay 
with  you,  Mary  Ann. 

Mary  Ann. 

Very  well,  ma’am  ( shuts  the  door). 

Nora  ( pale  with  terror). 

I ruin  my  children  . . . poison  my  home.  (Short  pause. 
She  raises  her  head  proudly.)  That  is  not  true.  It  is 
never,  and  can  never  be,  true. 


ACT  II. 

THE  SAME  ROOM. 

(In  the  corner  beside  the  piano  stands  the  Christmas-tree, 
stripped,  shabby,  and  with  the  candles  burnt  out.  On 
the  sofa  Nora's  walking  things . ) 

SCENE  I. 

Nora  (alone.  She  walks  about  restlessly.  At  last  stands 
by  the  sofa  and  takes  her  cloak.  After  a minute’s  reflection 
she  lets  it  fall  again  on  to  the  sofa). 

There’s  somebody  coming.  ( Goes  to  the  door , listens.) 
No;  nobody.  Nobody  is  likely  to  come  to-day,  Christmas 
Day,  nor  to-morrow  either.  But  perhaps  . . {opens  the 
door  and  peeps  out).  No.  Nothing  in  the  letter-box  ; it’s 
quite  empty.  {Comes  to  the  front  of  the  stage.)  Stuff  and 
nonsense  ! Of  course  he  will  do  nothing  serious  in  it* 


NORA. 


47 


Nothing  of  the  kind  can  possibly  happen.  It  is  impossible. 
Why,  I have  three  little  children. 

SCENE  II. 

(Mary  Ann  coming  out  of  the  left  room  with  a large 
paper  card-board  box.) 

Mary  Ann. 

At  last  I’ve  found  the  box  with  the  masquerade  dress. 
Nora. 

Thanks  ; put  it  down  on  the  table  there. 

Mary  Ann  ( does  so). 

But  it  is  still  very  much  out  of  order,  ma’am. 

Nora. 

Oh,  I wish  I could  tear  it  into  a hundred  thousand  pieces. 
Mary  Ann. 

Good  gracious  me,  ma’am  ! Why,  it  can  be  easily  put 
to  rights  ; it  only  wants  a little  patience. 

Nora. 

Yes ; I will  go  to  Mrs.  Linden  and  get  her  to  help  me. 
Mary  Ann. 

What ! out  again,  ma’am  ? In  this  dreadful  weather  ? 
You’ll  catch  your  death  of  cold,  ma’am,  and  be  quite  ill. 

Nora. 

Oh,  that’s  not  the  worst  thing  that  could  happen. 
What  are  the  children  doing  ? 

Mary  Ann. 

They’re  playing  with  their  Christmas  presents,  dear 
little  things ; but  . . . 

Nora. 

Do  they  often  ask  after  me  ? 

Mary  Ann. 

Well,  you  see,  ma’am,  they  have  been  so  used  to  having 
their  mamma  always  with  them. 

Nora. 

Yes;  but,  Mary  Ann,  henceforth  I can’t  have  them  so 
much  with  me  as  hitherto. 


43 


NORA. 


Mary  Ann. 

Well,  ma’am,  little  children  get  used  to  anything. 

Nora. 

Do  you  think  they  do?  Do  you  believe  that  they 
would  forget  their  mother  if  she  went  quite  away  ? 

Mary  Ann. 

Gracious  me,  ma’am ; quite  away  ! 

Nora. 

Tell  me,  Mary  Ann — I’ve  so  often  wondered  about 
it — how  could  you  bring  yourself  to  give  your  child  up  to 
strangers  ? 

Mary  Ann. 

But  I was  obliged  to,  if  I wanted  to  come  as  nurse  to 
my  little  Miss  Nora,  ma’am. 

Nora. 

Yes ; but  that  you  could  want  to. 

Mary  Ann. 

When  I could  get  such  a good  place,  ma’am  ? A poor 
girl  who’s  been  in  trouble  could  only  be  very  glad  to 
come  ; for  that  wicked  man  did  nothing  for  me. 

Nora. 

But  of  course  your  daughter  has  forgotten  you  ? 

Mary  Ann. 

Oh  no,  ma’am,  not  in  the  least.  She  wrrote  to  me  both 
when  she  was  confirmed  and  when  she  got  married. 

Nora  ( embracing  her). 

Dear  Mary  Ann,  you  were  a good  mother  to  me  when 
I was  a little  girl. 

Mary  Ann. 

My  poor  little  Miss  Nora  had  no  mother  but  me. 

Nora. 

And  if  my  little  children  had  nobody  else  I am  sure 
you  would  . . . Nonsense,  nonsense  {opens  the  box).  Go 
to  them  in  the  nursery.  Now  I must  . . . To-morrow 
you  shall  see  how  beautifully  this  dress  suits  me. 

Mary  Ann. 

Yes,  ma’am,  I’m  sure  there  will  be  nobody  so  beautiful 


NORA. 


49 


at  the  whole  ball  as  my  Miss  Nora.  ( She  goes  into  the 
left  r ooi7i.) 

Nora  ( begins  taking  the  costume  out  of  the  box , then 
soon  throws  it  down  again). 

Oh,  if  I could  go  away.  If  only  nobody  would  come. 
If  only  nothing  would  happen  here  at  home  meanwhile. 
Rubbish  ! nobody  will  come.  Only  not  to  think  . . . 
Stroke  one’s  muff  smooth.  Beautiful  gloves,  beautiful 
gloves  . . . Away  with  the  whole  thing,  away  with  it  . . . 
One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six.  ( With  a cry.)  Oh  ! there 
comes  the  . . . ( goes  towards  the  door , but  stands  un- 
decided). 

SCENE  III. 

Nora.  Mrs.  Linden  (comes  from  the  hall,  where  she 
has  taken  off  her  things). 

Nora. 

Oh,  it  is  you,  Christina.  Is  nobody  else  there  ? How 
delightful  of  you  to  come. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I hear  you  have  called  at  my  lodgings  to  ask  for  me. 
Nora. 

Yes,  I was  just  passing.  There  is  something  I wanted 
you  to  help  me  with.  Let  us  sit  here  on  the  sofa.  Look 
here.  To-morrow  evening  there  is  a costume  ball  at 
Consul  Steinberg’s  overhead,  and  now  Torvald  wants  me 
to  appear  as  a Neapolitan  fisher-girl,  and  dance  the  taran- 
tella, because  I did  learn  it  in  Capri. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I see,  dear.  Then  you  are  to  give  quite  a representa- 
tion of  the  character  ? 

Nora. 

Yes.;  Torvald  wishes  me  to.  Look  ! here  is  the  cos-' 
tume.  Torvald  had  it  made  for  me  in  Italy;  but  now  it 
is  all  so  torn,  and  I hardly  know  . . . 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Oh  ! we’ll  soon  set  that  to  rights  for  you.  It  is  only 
the  trimming  that  has  got  loose  here  and  there.  Have 

E 


5° 


NOE,  A. 


you  a needle  and  thread  ? Ah ! there’s  the  very  thing  we 
want. 

Nora. 

How  kind  it  is  of  you. 

Mrs.  Linden  {sewing). 

If  you’re  going  to  dress  up  to-morrow,  Nora,  I tell  you 
what — I shall  come  in  for  a moment  in  order  to  see  you 
in  all  your  glory.  But  I have  quite  forgotten  to  thank  you 
for  the  pleasant  evening  you  gave  me  yesterday. 

Nora  ( looks  up  and  walks  across  the  room). 

Ah  1 yesterday  it  didn’t  seem  to  me  so  pleasant  here  as 
it  generally  is.  . . . You  should  have  come  to  town  sooner, 
Christina.  Yes,  Torvald  knows  how  to  make  our  home 
beautiful  and  pleasant. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

And  so  do  you,  I think ; or  you  would  not  be  your 
father’s  daughter.  But  tell  me — is  Doctor  Rank  always 
so  depressed  as  he  was  yesterday  evening  ? 

Nora. 

It  was  particularly  striking  yesterday.  He  really  has  a 
terrible  illness  that  accounts  for  it.  He  has  spinal  con- 
sumption, poor  wretch.  You  see,  his  father  was  an  awful 
man,  who  did  all  sorts  of  wrong  things,  and  so  of  course 
his  son  has  been  ill  from  his  childhood. 

Mrs.  Linden  ( lets  her  sewing fall  into  her  lap). 

But,  my  dearest,  loveliest  Nora,  how  do  you  learn  such 
things  ? 

Nora  (walking). 

Oh ! when  one  has  three  children  one  is  sometimes  called 
upon  by  . . . women  who  have  a little  medical  know- 
ledge, and  happen  to  chat  about  one  thing  or  another. 

Mrs.  Linden  (goes  on  sewing;  short  pause). 

Does  Doctor  Rank  come  here  every  day  ? 

Nora. 

He  never  misses.  He  has  been  Torvald’s  friend  from 
boyhood,  you  know,  and  is  a good  friend  of  mine  too. 
Doctor  Rank  is  quite  one  of  the  family. 


NORA. 


5i 


Mrs.  Linden. 

But  just  tell  me,  dear  : is  the  man  quite  honest  ? I 
mean,  doesn’t  he  like  saying  flattering  things  to  people? 

Nora. 

On  the  contrary.  What  makes  you  think  so  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

When  you  introduced  us  yesterday  he  declared  he  had 
often  heard  my  name  in  the  house  ; but  then  I noticed 
your  husband  had  no  notion  who  I was.  How,  then, 
could  Doctor  Rank? 

Nora. 

You  are  right,  Christina.  But  you  see,  dear  Torvaid 
loves  me  so  indescribably  much  ; and  so  he  wants  to  have 
me  all  to  himself,  as  he  expresses  it.  When  we  first 
married  he  was  almost  jealous  if  I did  but  mention  one  of 
the  people  I lived  with  at  home,  so  I naturally  ceased  to 
mention  them.  But  I often  talk  to  Doctor  Rank  about  it, 
for  he  loves  to  hear  me  babble  on. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Dear  Nora,  in  many  things  you  are  still  just  like  a 
child.  I am  somewhat  older  than  you  are,  and  have  a 
little  more  experience.  I will  tell  you  something  : you 
ought  to  put  an  end  to  the  whole  affair  with  this  Doctor. 


Nora. 

What  affair  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Both  affairs,  it  seems  to  me.  Yesterday  you  were 
telling  me  about  a rich  admirer  who  was  to  furnish  you 
with  money. 

Nora. 

Yes,  and  who  never  existed,  more’s  the  pity.  But  what 
then  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Has  Doctor  Rank  property  ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  he  has. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

And  nobody  to  provide  for  r UB&ARV 


52 


NORA. 


Nora. 

Nobody.  But — 

Mrs.  Linden. 

And  he  comes  here  every  day  ? 

Nora. 

Yes  ; I tell  you  he  never  misses. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

But  how  can  he,  as  a gentleman,  be  so  intrusive  ? 

Nora. 

I really  don’t  understand  you. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Don’t  pretend,  Nora.  Don’t  you  suppose  I did  not 
guess  from  whom  you  borrowed  the  ^300  ? 

Nora. 

Are  you  out  of  your  senses  ? You  think  that  ? A friend 
of  the  family  who  comes  here  every  day  to  us  ! What  a 
terrible,  torturing  state  of  things  it  would  be  ! 

Mrs.  Linlen. 

Then  it  really  is  not  he? 

Nora. 

No;  that  I do  assure  you.  It  never  for  a moment 
occurred  to  me  to  ask  him.  Besides,  at  that  time  he  had 
nothing  to  lend;  it  was  later  that  he  came  into  his 
property. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Well,  that  was  certainly  lucky  for  you,  Nora  dear. 

Nora. 

No,  really,  it  never  would  have  struck  me  to  ask  Doctor 
Rank  However,  I am  certain  that  if  I did — 

Mrs.  Linden. 

But  of  course  you  never  would  . . . 

Nora. 

I should  think  not,  indeed.  Nor  do  I believe  it  will  be 
necessary.  But  I am  firmly  convinced  that  if  I said  to 
Doctor  Rank — 


NORA. 


53 


Mrs.  Linden. 

Behind  your  husband’s  back  ? 

Nora. 

I must  get  out  of  the  other  loan  ; that  I had  to  manage 
behind  his  back  too.  I must  get  out  of  that. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes,  yes,  you  were  saying  so  yesterday  ; but — 

Nora  ( walking  up  and  down). 

A man  can  get  things  into  better  order  somehow  than 
a woman  can.  . . 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Her  own  husband  ; yes. 

Nora. 

Nonsense.  {Stands  stilly  When  one  pays  everything 
off  that  one  owes,  one  gets  back  the  acknowledgment  of 
the  debt  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Of  course. 

Nora. 

And  can  tear  it  into  a hundred  thousand  pieces  and 
burn  the  nasty,  horrid  thing ! 

Mrs.  Linden  {looks  at  her  fixedly , lays  down  her  work , 
and  looks  up  slowly). 

Nora,  you  are  hiding  something  from  me. 

Nora. 

Can  you  see  that  in  my  manner  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Since  yesterday  morning  something  has  been  happening 
to  you.  Nora,  what  is  it? 

N ORA  {going  towards  her). 

Christina.  {Listens.)  Hush.  There’s  Torvald  coming 
home.  Here,  go  and  sit  with  the  children.  Torvald  can’t 
bear  to  see  dress-making.  Let  Mary  Ann  help  you. 

Mrs.  Linden  {gathers  some  of  the  things  together). 

Very  well ; but  I shan’t  go  away  until  we  have  spoken 
openly  to  each  other.  {She  goes  away  to  the  left  as  Helmer 
enters  from  the  Hall). 


54 


NORA. 


SCENE  IV. 

Nora.  H elmer. 

Nora  (goes  to  meet  him ). 

Oh  ! how  I have  been  longing  to  see  you,  Torvald  dear. 
Helmer. 

Was  the  dress-maker  here  ? 

Nora. 

No  ; Christina.  She  is  helping  me  to  get  my  costume 
into  order.  You  will  see  I shall  look  perfectly  charming. 

Helmer. 

Yes  ; wasn’t  that  an  extremely  lucky  thought  of  mine  ? 
Nora. 

Glorious  ! But  is  it  not  also  very  beautiful  of  me  to 
give  in  to  you  ? 

Helmer  (takes  her  under  the  chin). 

Beautiful  of  you — that  you  give  in  to  your  own  husband  ! 
Why,  you  little  rogue,  I know  very  well  you  didn’t  mean 
anything  of  the  sort.  But  I won’t  disturb  you.  I dare  say 
you  want  to  be  fitting  on  your  dress. 

Nora. 

And  I dare  say  you’re  going  to  work  ? 

Helmer. 

Yes  (shows  her  a bundle  of  do cuments).  Look  here.  I 
was  at  the  bank  just  now  (is  about  to  go  to  his  room). 

Nora. 

Torvald. 

Helmer  (stands  stilt). 

Yes  ? 

Nora. 

If  your  little  squirrel  were  to  ask  you  for  something  very 
prettily  and  seriously.  . . 

Helmer. 

Then? 


Would  you  do  it  ? 


Nora. 


NORA. 


55 


Helmer. 

Naturally  I should  first  expect  to  be  told  what  it  is. 

Nora. 

The  little  squirrel  would  jump  about  and  perform  all 
sorts  of  funny  tricks  if  you  would  be  amiable  and  do  as 
you  are  asked. 

Helmer. 

Come,  then  ; out  with  it. 

Nora. 

The  little  lark  would  twitter  round  in  all  the  rooms,  loud 
and  soft  by  turns.  . . 

Helmer. 

Oh,  there’s  nothing  in  s that.  She  does  all  that  as 
it  is. 

Nora. 

I would  act  a fairy,  and  dance  in  the  moonshine, 
Torvald. 

Helmer. 

Nora,  you  can’t  mean  what  you  were  begging  me  about 
this  morning  ? 

Nora  (coming  nearer). 

Yes,  Torvald,  I do  beg  you  so. 

Helmer. 

Have  you  really  courage  to  mention  the  matter  again 
to  me  ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  yes.  You  must  grant  my  request.  You  must  let 
Krogstad  keep  his  place  at  the  Bank. 

Helmer. 

My  dear  Nora,  I have  arranged  for  his  place  to  be 
given  to  Mrs.  Linden. 

Nora. 

Yes,  and  that  was  very  nice  of  you.  But  instead  of 
Krogstad,  you  could  dismiss  some  other  clerk. 

Helmer. 

That  would  be  incredibly  absurd.  Because  you  heed- 
lessly promised  to  put  in  a word  for  him,  I am  to  . . . 


NORA. 


56 


Nora. 

Not  for  that  reason,  Torvald.  It  is  for  your  own  sake. 
The  man  is  on  the  staff  of  some  of  our  most  scurrilous 
newspapers;  I have  heard  you  say  so  myself.  He  can 
do  you  such  infinite  harm.  I am  so  terribly  afraid  of 
him. 

H ELMER. 

Oh,  I understand  ; it  is  old  recollections  that  are 
frightening  you. 

Nora. 

Why  do  you  say  that  ? 

Helmer. 

Of  course  you  are  thinking  of  your  father. 

Nora. 

Yes,  to  be  sure.  Only  call  to  mind  what  wicked  men 
used  to  write  about  father  in  the  papers,  and  how  shame- 
fully they  calumniated  him.  I believe  they  really  would 
have  got  him  dismissed  if  Government  had  not  sent  you 
down  to  look  into  the  matter,  and  if  you  had  not  been  so 
kindly  and  considerate  towards  him. 

Helmer. 

My  dear  Nora,  between  your  father  and  me  there  is  all 
the  difference  in  the  world.  Your  father  was  not,  as  an 
official,  quite  unimpeachable.  But  I am ; and  I hope  to 
remain  so  as  long  as  I am  at  my  post. 

Nora. 

Oh,  you  don’t  in  the  least  comprehend  how  wicked  men 
find  out  all  sorts  of  things  to  say.  We  could  be  so  well 
off  now,  and  live  so  quietly  and  happily  in  our  peaceful 
home,  free  from  any  kind  of  care,  you  and  I and  the 
children,  Torvald  ! This  is  why  I beg  you  so  earnestly. 

Helmer. 

And  it  is  just  by  your  throwing  yourself  into  the  matter 
that  you  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  keep  him.  It  is 
already  known  at  the  Bank  that  I intend  to  dismiss 
Krogstad.  If  it  were  now  to  be  known  that  the  new  Bank 
Manager  let  himself  be  talked  round  by  his  wife — 

Nora. 


Well,  then  ? 


NORA. 


57 


Helmer. 

If  only  the  obstinate  little  woman  can  get  her  own  way, 
of  course  that  is  all  she  wants.  . . I am  to  make  myself 
the  laughing-stock  of  all  the  clerks,  and  set  people  saying 
I am  under  outside  influence.  Take  my  word  for  it,  I 
should  soon  trace  the  consequences.  And  besides,  there 
is  one  circumstance  that  makes  Krogstad  an  impossible 
person  to  have  at  the  Bank  while  I am  manager  there. 

Nora. 

What  circumstance  ? 

Helmer. 

In  case  of  necessity  I could  perhaps  have  overlooked 
his  moral  fault.  . . 

Nora. 

Yes,  couldn’t  you,  Torvald? 

Helmer. 

And  by  what  I hear  he  must  be  quite  competent.  But 
we  knew  each  other  in  early  youth.  It  is  one  of  those 
hasty  acquaintances  that  so  often  hamper  one  in  later  life. 
In  fact,  the  whole  difficulty  lies  in  his  calling  me  Torvald. 
And  the  tactless  creature  makes  no  secret  of  it  when  other 
people  are  present.  On  the  contrary,  he  fancies  it  justifies 
his  taking  a familiar  tone  with  me ; and  so  he  blurts  out 
at  every  turn, ‘ I say,  Torvald  I do  assure  you  it  causes 
me  most  painful  emotion.  He  would  make  my  position 
at  the  Bank  perfectly  unendurable  to  me. 

Nora. 

Torvald,  you  are  not  serious  in  saying  all  this. 

Helmer. 

Not?  Why  not? 

Nora. 

All  these  are  such  petty  considerations. 

Helmer. 

What  are  you  saying  ? Petty  consid — Do  you  con- 
sider me  petty  ? 

Nora. 

No,  on  the  contrary,  Torvald  dear  ; and  that  is  just 
why — 


58 


NORA. 


Helmer. 

It’s  all  the  same.  You  call  my  reasons  petty  ; then  I 
must  be  petty  too.  Petty  ! Very  well  then.  Now  we’ll 
put  an  end  to  this  once  and  for  all.  ( Goes  to  the  door  into 
the  hall  and  calls.)  Ellen  ! 

Nora. 

What  do  you  want  to  do  ! 

Helmer  {searching  among  his  papers). 

To  put  an  end  to  the  whole  affair. 

SCENE  V. 

The  Preceding.  Ellen. 

Helmer  {to  Ellen). 

There,  take  the  letter.  Give  it  to  a messenger.  But  see 
that  he  takes  it  at  once.  The  address  is  on  it.  Here  is 
the  money  for  him. 

SCENE  VI. 

Nora.  Helmer. 

Helmer  {putting  his  papers  in  order). 

There,  my  obstinate  little  wife. 

Nora  {as  though  out  of  her  ?nind). 

Torvald,  what  letter  was  that  ? 

Helmer. 

Krogstad’s  dismissal. 

Nora. 

Fetch  it  back  again,  Torvald.  There  is  still  time. 
Oh,  Torvald,  get  it  back  again.  Do  it  for  my  sake— for 
your  own  sake — for  our  children’s  sake.  Do  you  hear  ? 
Torvald,  do  it.  You  don’t  know  what  that  letter  has  the 
power  to  bring  upon  us  all. 

Helmer. 

Too  late. 

Nora. 

Yes,  too  late. 

Helmer. 

Dear  Nora,  I forgive  you  your  anxiety,  although  it  is 


NORA. 


59 


founded  upon  what  is  wounding  to  me.  Yes,  that  is 
what  it  really  is.  Or  perhaps  it  is  no  offence  to  me  for 
you  to  believe  I should  be  afraid  of  the  revenge  of  a dis- 
graced newspaper  scribbler  ? But  I forgive  it  you,  because 
it  is  all  the  time  a charming  proof  of  your  great  love  for  me 
{takes  her  in  his  arms).  It  must  be  so,  my  dear,  darling 
Nora.  Let  what  will  befall  us.  If  I am  called  upon  for  it, 
I have  not  only  courage,  but  the  strength  too,  you  know. 
You  shall  see  I am  powerful  enough  to  take  everything 
upon  my  shoulders. 

Nora  ( suddenly  terrified ). 

What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? 

Helmer. 

Everything,  I say. 

Nora  ( decidedly ). 

That  you  shall  never,  never  do. 

Helmer. 

Very  well ; then  we  will  share  it,  N ora,  as  man  and  wife, 
just  as  we  ought  to  do  ( strokes  her).  Are  you  satisfied 
now  ? Come,  come,  come ; don’t  let  me  see  those  eyes 
looking  like  a scared  dove’s.  It  is  all  your  own  fancy. 
Now  you  must  act  the  tarantella,  and  practise  the  tam- 
bourine. I shall  go  and  sit  in  my  other  office  and  shut 
the  double  door,  so  that  I shall  hear  nothing.  You  can 
make  as  much  noise  as  ever  you  please  ( turns  round  in 
the  doorway ),  and  when  Rank  comes,  just  tell  him  where  I 
am  to  be  found. 


SCENE  VII. 

Nora.  Then  Rank.  Later  Ellen. 

N ORA  {shaken  with  anxiety , stands  as  though  rooted 
to  the  ground , and  whispers). 

He  had  it  in  his  power  to  do  it.  Yes  ; he  did  it.  He 
did  it  in  spite  of  all  and  everything  I said.  No;  never 
that,  to  all  Eternity.  Rather  anything  than  that ! Save 
me  ! Oh,  for  some  way  out  of  it.  {The  hall-door  bell  rings  l) 
Doctor  Rank  ! Rather  anything  than  that,  whatever  it  may 
be.  ( She  drags  herself  slowly  along , with  her  hand  over 
her  face , goes  to  the  door  and  opens  it.  Rank  stands 


6o 


NORA. 


outside  and  hangs  up  his  greatcoat.  During  the  following 
scene  it  grows  dark.)  Good  afternoon,  Doctor  Rank.  I 
knew  you  by  your  ring.  But  you  must  not  go  to  Torvald 
now  ; for  I believe  he  has  some  work  to  do. 

Rank. 

And  you  ? 

N ora  (as  he  walks  into  the  room , and  she  shuts  the 
door  behind  him). 

Oh,  you  know  perfectly  well  I have  always  [a  spare 
moment  for  you. 

Rank. 

Thank  you.  I shall  avail  myself  of  your  kindness  as 
long  as  ever  I can. 

Nora. 

What  does  that  mean  ? As  long  as  ever  you  can  ? 

Rank. 

Yes  ; does  that  frighten  you  ? 

Nora. 

You  express  yourself  so  curiously.  Does  it  mean  you 
have  got  to  know  something  ? 

Rank. 

Something  about  which  I have  long  been  convinced ; but 
I did  not  think  it  would  come  off  quite  so  soon. 

Nora  ( seizing  his  arm). 

What  is  it  you  have  got  to  know?  Doctor  Rank,  you 
must  tell  me. 

Rank  ( sitting  down  by  the  stove). 

I am  running  downhill.  There  is  no  help  for  it. 

Nora  ( breathing  with  relief ). 

You  are  the  one,  then,  who  . . . ? 

Rank. 

Who  else  should  it  be?  Why  deceive  oneself?  I am 
the  most  miserable  of  all  my  patients,  Mrs.  Helmer.  In 
the  last  few  days  I have  had  a general  stock-taking  of  my 
inner  man.  Bankruptcy  ! Before  a month  is  over  I shall 
be  food  for  worms  in  the  churchyard. 


NORA. 


6 


Nora. 

Oh,  what  ugly  things  you  say  ! 

Rank. 

The  thing  itself  is  so  cursed  ugly.  But  the  worst  of 
it  is,  that  so  many  other  ugly  things  have  to  be  gone 
through  first.  There  is  only  one  investigation  to  be 
made,  and  when  I have  made  it  I shall  know  exactly  at 
what  time  dissolution  will  begin.  There  is  something  I 
want  to  say  to  you  about  that.  Helmer  has  stamped  oil 
his  refined  nature  such  a hatred  for  all  that  is  ugly  ; I will 
not  have  him  in  my  sick  room. 

Nora. 

But,  Doctor  Rank — 

Rank. 

I will  not  have  him  in  my  sick  room — upon  any  condi- 
tion whatsoever.  I close  my  door  against  him.  As  soon 
as  I obtain  completely  certain  information  as  to  the  worst, 
I shall  send  you  my  visiting  card  with  a black  cross  on  it, 
and  then  you  will  know  that  the  horrors  of  dissolution  have 
begun. 

Nora. 

Come,  this  is  too  bad  of  you.  The  things  you  are  say- 
ing, too,  are  too  disagreeable  for  anything.  And  I was  so 
particularly  anxious  you  should  be  in  a really  good  temper. 

Rank. 

With  Death  staring  me  in  the  face  ? And  all  by  way 
of  penance  for  the  faults  of  other  people.  What  justice  is 
there  in  that  ? Just  such  compensation  is  being  exacted, 
inexorably,  after  one  fashion  or  another,  in  every  family. 

N ORA  (. stopping  her  ears). 

Nonsense.  Do  be  funny,  funny  ! 

Rank. 

Yes,  really,  the  whole  story  is  only  worth  laughing  at. 
My  poor  innocent  spine  must  do  penance  for  my  father’s 
notions  of  amusement  when  he  was  a lieutenant  in  the 
army. 

Nora  {at  the  left  table). 

I suppose  he  was  devoted  to  asparagus  and  Strasburg 
pies,  wasn’t  he? 


62 


NORA. 


Rank. 

Certainly,  and  to  truffles. 

Nora. 

Yes,  devoted  to  truffles,  to  be  sure,  and  to  oysters,  I 
believe. 

Rank. 

Yes,  to  oysters ; no  need  to  mention  that ; oysters,  of 
course. 

Nora. 

And  then  all  the  port  wine  and  champagne.  It  is 
sad  that  all  these  dainties  should  affect  the  bones  so 
disastrously. 

Rank. 

Especially  wnen  the  bones  so  disastrously  affected  never 
got  the  least  advantage  from  the  dainties. 

Nora. 

Yes  ; that  is  the  saddest  part  of  it. 

Rank  ( looks  at  her  searchingly). 

H— m.  . . . 

Nora  ( a moment  later). 

Why  were  you  smiling  ? 

Rank. 

N o ; it  was  you  who  smiled. 

Nora. 

No,  you,  Doctor  Rank. 

Rank  {standing  up'). 

You  are  really  a greater  rogue  than  I thought. 

Nora. 

To-day  I am  just  inclined  to  play  all  sorts  of  tricks. 
Rank. 

It  seems  like  it. 

Nora  {with  her  hands  on  his  shoulders ). 

Dear,  good  Doctor  Rank,  Death  shall  not  take  you 
away  from  Torvald  and  me. 


NORA. 


^3 


Rank. 

Oh,  you  will  easily  get  over  the  loss.  People  who  go 
away  are  soon  forgotten. 

Nora  ( looking  at  him  anxiously ). 

Do  you  think  so  ? 

Rank. 

People  make  fresh  ties,  and  then — 

N ORA. 

Who  will  make  fresh  ties  ? 

Rank. 

You  and  Helmer,  as  soon  as  I am  gone.  In  fact,  you 
are  already  setting  about  it,  it  seems  to  me.  What  was 
this  Mrs.  Linden  doing  here  yesterday  ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  that’s  it  ? But  you  don’t  mean  to  say  you’re  jealous 
of  poor  Christina  ? 

Rank. 

Yes,  I am.  She  will  be  my  successor  here  in  your 
house.  This  woman  will  probably — 


Nora. 

Hush  ! Not  so  loud  ; she  is  in  there. 

Rank. 

To-day,  as  well?  There,  just  what  I said  ! 


Nora. 

Only  to  put  my  costume  in  order.  But,  really,  what 
odious  things  you  are  saying  ( sits  on  the  sofa).  Now,  do 
just  be  sensible,  Doctor  Rank  ; to-morrow  you  shall  see 
how  beautifully  I dance,  and  then  you  may  fancy,  if  you 
like,  that  I am  doing  it  all  to  please  you  only,  and  of 
course  Torvald  as  well — of  course  ( takes  various  things 
out  of  the  cardboard  box).  Doctor  Rank,  sit  over  here  ; I 
will  show  you  something. 


What  is  it  ? 
Look  here. 


Rank  ( sitting  down). 
Nora. 

Do  you  see  these  ? 


64 


NORA. 


Rank. 

Silk  stockings. 

Nora. 

Flesh-coloured.  Aren’t  they  lovely  ? Oh,  it’s  so  dark 
here  now;  but  to-morrow.  ...  No,  no,  no,  you  must 
only  look  at  the  feet.  Very  well,  I give  you  leave  to  look 
at  the  rest  too. 

Rank. 

H— m. 

Nora. 

What  are  you  looking  so  critical  about  ? Don’t  you 
think  they  would  fit  me  ? 

Rank. 

It  is  impossible  I should  have  any  settled  opinion  on 
that  point. 

N ora  (, looking  at  him  a moment ). 

F or  shame  {hits  him  lightly  on  the  ear  with  the  stock - 
ings).  Take  that  for  it  {puts  them  in  the  box  again). 

Rank. 

And  what  other  splendid  things  have  you  got  there  that 
1 was  to  see  ? 

Nora. 

You  won’t  be  allowed  4o  see  anything  more,  for  you 
don’t  behave  nicely.  ( She  hums  a little  and  searches 
among  the  things. ) 

Rank  {after  a short  silence'). 

When  I am  sitting  here  in  such  perfect  intimacy  with 
you,  I simply  can’t  imagine  what  would  have  become  of 
me  if  I had  never  entered  this  house. 

Nora  {smiling). 

Yes,  I really  think  you  like  being  with  us. 

Rank  {more  softly , looking  straight  before  him). 

And  now  I must  go  away  from  it  all. 

Nora. 

Nonsense.  You  won’t  go  away  from  us. 

Rank  {in  the  same  tone). 

And  not  be  able  to  leave  behind  me  the  smallest  sign 


NORA. 


65 


of  thanks;  scarcely  a passing  thought  of  regret — nothing 
but  an  empty  place  that  can  be  filled  by  the  next  comer  as 
well  as  by  anybody  else. 

Nora. 

And  if  I were  to  ask  you  now  for  ...  No. 

Rank. 

For  what  ? 

Nora. 

For  a great  proof  of  your  friendship. 

Rank. 

Well,  well  ? 

Nora. 

No,  I mean — for  a very,  very  great  service. 

Rank. 

Would  you  really  for  once  make  me  so  happy  as  that 
would  make  me  ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  you  have  no  notion  yet  what  it  is. 

Rank. 

Very  well ; please  tell  me  directly. 

Nora. 

But  I can’t : it  is  such  an  extraordinarily  great  thing. 
Not  only  a service,  but  advice  and  help  besides. 

Rank. 

So  much  the  better.  I can’t  imagine  what  you  can 
mean.  But  do  go  on.  Don’t  you  trust  me  ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  as  I trust  nobody  else.  You  are  my  best  and  most 
faithful  friend.  I know  that.  For  that  reason  I will  tell 
you  what  it  is.  Well,  then,  Doctor  Rank,  you  must  help 
me  to  hinder  something.  You  know  how  deeply,  how 
indescribably  Torvald  loves  me  ; he  would  not  hesitate  a 
moment  to  give  his  very  life  for  mine. 

Rank  ( bending  towards  her). 

Nora,  do  you  think,  then,  that  he  is  the  only  one  who 
would — 


F 


66 


NORA. 


N ORA  ( with  slight  hesitation ). 

Who? 


Rank. 

Who  would  gladly  give  his  life  for  you  ? 


Nora  {sadly). 

Oh! 

Rank. 

I had  sworn  that  you  should  know  it  before  I went  away 
for  ever.  I should  never  find  a better  opportunity.  Yes, 
Nora,  now  you  know  it.  And  now  you  know,  too,  that 
you  can  trust  yourself  to  me  as  you  could  to  no  one  else. 


Nora  {stands  up  simply  and  calmly). 

Let  me  pass,  please. 

Rank  {makes  way  for  her , but  sits  still). 

Nora. 

N ORA  {in  the  door  to  the  hall). 

Ellen,  bring  the  lamp.  ( Walks  to  the  stove.)  Oh,  dear 
Doctor  Rank,  that  was  too  bad  of  you. 

Rank  {standing  up). 

That  I love  you  devotedly  as  no  one  else  does  ? Was 
that  too  bad  of  me  ? 


Nora. 

No ; but  that  you  should  tell  me  so.  It  was  really  not 
necessary. 

Rank. 

What  do  you  mean  ? Did  you  know  it,  then  ? 

Ellen  {comes  in  with  the  lamp , sets  it  down  on  the  table , 
and  goes  out  again). 

Rank. 

Nora,  Mrs.  Helmer,  I ask  you,  did  you  know  anything 
of  it  ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  what  do  I know  as  to  whether  I knew  or  didn't 
know?  I really  can’t  say.  . . But  that  you  could  possibly 
be  so  clumsy.  Everything  was  going  on  so  beautifully. 


NORA. 


67 


Rank. 

Well,  at  any  rate  you  know  now  for  certain  that  I am 
quite  at  your  disposal,  soul  and  body.  And  now  speak  on. 

Nora  (looking  at  hint). 

Speak  on  now  ? 

Rank. 

I beg  you  to  tell  me  what  it  is  you  want. 

Nora. 

Now  I can’t  say  anything  more  to  you. 

Rank. 

Oh  dear,  dear  ! you  must  not  punish  me  in  that  way. 
Give  me  leave  to  do  for  you  whatever  is  in  a man’s 
power. 

Nora. 

You  cannot  do  anything  more  for  me  now.  And  besides, 
I want  no  help  from  any  stranger.  You  shall  see  it  was 
all  my  imagination.  Yes,  mere  imagination  on  my  part. 
Of  course.  (Sits  in  the  rocking-chair,  looks  at  him, 
smiles .)  Yes,  you  really  are  a charming  gentleman,  Doctor 
Rank.  Now  just  tell  me,  aren’t  you  ashamed  of  yourself 
now  that  the  lamp  is  on  the  table  ? 


Rank. 

No,  indeed  I am  not.  But  perhaps  I ought  to  go,  and 
for  ever  ? 


Nora. 

No  ; you  needn’t  do  that.  You  are  to  come  to  us  as 
you  always  have  come.  You  know  very  well  thatTorvald 
can’ t do  without  you. 

Rank. 

Yes  ; but  you  ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  it  always  gives  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  have 
you  with  us. 

Rank. 

That  is  just  what  led  me  to  mistake  my  path.  You  are 
a riddle  to  me.  It  often  seemed  to  me  as  though  you 
would  almost  as  gladly  spend  your  time  with  me  as  with 
Heimer. 


68 


NORA. 


Nora. 

Yes, — don’t  you  see?  one  loves  one  person,  and  likes 
spending  time  with  another. 

Rank. 

Ah,  there’s  some  truth  in  that. 

Nora. 

When  I was  still  a girl  at  home,  I naturally  loved  papa 
beyond  all  else.  But  it  always  delighted  me  when  I could 
steal  into  the  maids’  room  ; for,  in  the  first  place,  they  never 
lectured  me,  and  in  the  second,  it  was  always  so  merry 
there. 

Rank. 

Oh,  I see  ; then  it  is  their  place  I have  taken. 

Nora  ( jumps  up  and  hurries  towards  him). 

Oh  ! dear,  good  Doctor  Rank,  I never  meant  that.  But 
you  can  very  well  imagine  that  I feel  about  Torvald  just 
as  I used  to  feel  about  father. 

Ellen  (coming from  the  hall). 

Please,  ma’am.  ( Whispers  in  her  ear  arid  gives  her  a 
card.) 

Nora  (. glances  at  the  card). 

Ah  ! ( Puts  it  in  her  pocket.) 

Rank. 

Something  disagreeable  up  ? 

Nora. 

No,  not  in  the  least.  It  is  only — it  is  my  new  costume. 

Rank. 

How  can  it  be  ? It’s  there. 

Nora. 

Oh,  that  one,  yes  ; but  it’s  another,  that  ...  I ordered 
it.  . . Torvald  is  not  to  know. 

Rank. 

Oh,  indeed.  So  that’s  the  great  secret. 


NORA. 


69 


Nora. 

Yes,  to  be  sure.  Do  just  go'into  his  room ; he  is  in  the 
one  beyond  that  one ; do  keep  him  as  long  as  you  can. 

Rank. 

Make  yourself  easy  ; he  sha’n’t  get  away  from  me  {goes 
into  H elmer’s  room). 

Nora  {to  Ellen). 

Then  he  is  waiting  in  the  kitchen  ? 

Ellen. 

Yes  ; he  came  to  the  back  door. 

Nora. 

But  did  you  not  tell  him  I had  a visitor  with  me  ? 

Ellen. 

Yes,  ma’am  ; but  it  was  no  use. 

Nora. 

He  really  will  not  go  away,  then  ? 

Ellen. 

No,  ma’am ; not  until  he  has  spoken  with  you. 

Nora. 

Then  let  him  come  in,  but  quietly.  And  say  nothing 
about  it,  Ellen  ; it  is  a surprise  for  my  husband. 

Ellen. 

Oh  yes,  ma’am  ; I quite  understand  {goes). 

Nora. 

The  terrible  thing  is  coming.  It  is  here  already.  No, 
no,  no  ; it  can  never  happen  ; it  shall  not.  {She  goes  to 
H elmer’s  door  and  slips  the  bolt . Ellen  opens  the  hall 
door  to  Krogstad,  and  shuts  it  behind  him . He  wears  a 
travelling  coat , high  boots , and  a fur  cap.) 


7° 


NORA. 


SCENE  VIII. 

Nora.  Krogstad. 

Nora  (towards  Aim.) 

Speak  quietly.  My  husband  is  at  home, 

Krogstad.  j 
All  right ; I don’t  care. 

Nora. 

What  do  you  want  of  me  ? 

Krogstad. 

An  explanation  of  something. 

Nora. 

Be  quick,  then.  What  is  it  ? 

Krogstad. 

You  know  I have  received  my  dismissal. 

N ORA. 

I could  not  prevent  it,  Mr.  Krogstad.  I fought  to  the  last 
on  your  behalf,  but  without  success. 

Krogstad. 

Does  your  husband  love  you  so  little  ? He  knows  what 
it  is  that  I can  do  to  injure  you,  and  yet  he  dares — 

Nora. 

How  could  you  think  I should  tell  him  ? 

Krogstad. 

Goodness  me  ! I didn’t  think  that,  either.  To  show 
so  much  manly  courage  did  not  look  much  like  my  fine 
Torvald  Helmer. 

Nora. 

Mr.  Krogstad,  I demand  respect  for  my  husband. 
Krogstad. 

To  be  sure;  all  due  respect.  But  since  you,  dear 
madam,  are  so  anxious  to  keep  the  matter  secret,  I suppose 
I may  venture  to  assume  that  you  are  a little  clearer  than 
you  were  yesterday  as  to  what  you  have  really  done  ? 


NORA. 


7 1 


Nora. 

Clearer  than  you  could  ever  make  me. 

Krogstad. 

Yes,  such  a bad  lawyer  as  I am. 

Nora. 

What  is  it  you  want  ? 

Krogstad. 

Only  to  see  how  you  were  getting  on,  Mrs.  Helmer.  I 
have  been  thinking  about  you  all  day  long.  A cashier,  a 
disgraced  newspaper  writer,  a — in  short,  a creature  like 
me,  you  know,  has  a little  bit  of  what  people  call  ‘ heart.’ 

Nora. 

Then  show  it  ; think  of  my  little  children. 

Krogstad. 

Did  you  and  your  husband  think  of  mine  ? But  let’s 
leave  that  alone.  I only  wanted  to  tell  you  that  you  needn’t 
take  this  matter  too  seriously.  I sha’n’t  be  the  first  one  to 
talk  about  it. 

Nora. 

No ; to  be  sure.  I knew  you  wouldn’t  be. 

Krogstad. 

It  can  be  settled  as  amiably  as  possible.  Nobody  need 
know.  It  can  remain  among  us  three. 

Nora. 

My  husband  is  never  to  know  anything  about  it. 

Krogstad. 

How  can  you  prevent  that  ? Can  you  pay  off  the  debt,  eh  ? 

Nora. 

No,  not  at  once. 

Krogstad. 

Or  have  you  any  means  of  raising  the  money  in  the  next 
few  days  ? 

Nora. 

No  means  that  I will  make  use  of. 


72 


NORA. 


Krogstad. 

And  if  you  had,  it  would  be  no  good  to  you  now.  If  you 
stood  here  with  ever  so  much  money  in  your  hand  you 
wouldn’t  get  your  I.  O.  U.  back  from  me. 

Nora. 

Tell  me  what  you  want  to  do  with  it. 

Krogstad. 

I only  want  to  keep  it,  to  have  it  in  my  own  hands.  No 
stranger  shall  hear  anything  of  it.  If  you  were  to  form 
any  desperate  resolution.  . . 

Nora. 

That  I shall  do. 

Krogstad. 

If  you  should  think  of  leaving  your  husband  and 
children.  . . 

Nora. 

That  I shall  do. 

Krogstad. 

Or  if  you  should  think  of  doing  something  far  worse. . . 

Nora. 

How  do  you  know  that  ? 

Krogstad. 

Never  mind  that. 


Nora. 

How  do  you  know  I had  that  in  my  mind  ? 

Krogstad. 

Most  of  us  think  of  that  as  the  first  thing  to  do.  I had 
thought  of  it  too  ; but  really  had  not  the  courage. 

Nora  ( voicelessly ). 

Nor  I. 

Krogstad  (relieved). 

N o,  one  hasn’t.  Y ou  had  not  the  courage  either,  had  you  ? 
Nora. 


I hadn’t,  I hadn’t. 


NOHA. 


73 


Krogstad. 

Besides,  it  would  be  very  silly.  When  the  first  storm  is 
only  over  in  the  house  ...  I have  a letter  in  my  pocket  for 
your  husband. 

Nora. 

Telling  him  everything? 

Krogstad. 

Sparing  you  as  far  as  possible. 

Nora  {quickly). 

He  shall  never  have  that  letter.  Tear  it  up.  I will  get 
you  the  money  somehow. 

Krogstad. 

I beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Helmer;  but  I believe  I have 
already  told  you  . . . 

Nora. 

Oh,  I’m  not  talking  about  the  money  I owe  you.  Tell 
me  how  large  a sum  you  demand  from  my  husband,  and  I 
will  get  it  for  you. 

Krogstad. 

I demand  no  money  from  your  husband. 

Nora. 

What  do  you  want,  then  ? 

Krogstad. 

I will  tell  you.  I want  to  get  on  in  the  world,  dear 
madam  ; I want  to  redeem  my  position  in  it.  And  your 
husband  shall  help  me  to  do  it.  For  the  last  eighteen 
months  I have  not  been  concerned  in  any  dishonourable 
transaction  ; during  that  time  I have  been  fighting  against 
the  most  gloomy  circumstances.  I was  content  to  work 
my  way  up,  step  by  step.  Now  I am  turned  out,  and  I 
am  not  satisfied  to  get  employment  again  as  a matter  of 
favour.  I mean  to  rise  in  the  world,  I tell  you.  . . I will 
get  into  the  Bank  again — and  in  a higher  position  than 
before.  Your  husband  shall  make  a place  on  purpose  for 
me. 

Nora. 


He  will  never  do  that. 


74 


nob,  a. 


Krogstad. 

He  will  do  it.  I know  him  ; he  won’t  dare  to  refuse. 
And  when  I am  once  associated  with  him  there  you  will 
soon  see  ! Before  a year  is  out  I shall  be  the  manager’s 
right  hand.  It  won’t  be  Torvald  Helmer  but  Nils  Krogstad 
who  carries  on  the  Joint  Stock  Bank. 

Nora. 

You’ll  never  get  to  that  point. 

Krogstad. 

Perhaps  you  would  . . . 

Nora. 

Yes ; now  I have  the  courage  for  it. 

Krogstad. 

Oh,  you  don’t  frighten  me.  An  elegant,  spoilt  lady  like 
you  . . . 

Nora. 

You  will  see,  you  will  see. 

Krogstad. 

Under  the  ice,  perhaps.  Down  into  the  black  cold 
water.  And  then  next  spring  be  fished  up  on  the  shore, 
ugly,  unrecognisable,  with  your  hair  all  fallen  out  . . . 

Nora. 

You  don’t  frighten  me. 

Krogstad. 

Nor  you  me.  People  don’t  do  things  of  that  sort,  Mrs. 
Helmer.  And,  after  all,  what  would  be  the  use  of  it?  I 
have  your  husband  so  completely  here  in  my  pocket. 

Nora. 

Even  then  still  ? When  I am  no  longer — 

Krogstad. 

Do  you  forget  that  your  good  name  after  death  is  in  my 
hands  ? 

(N  ORA  stands  speechless  and  looks  at  him.) 

Krogstad. 

Well,  now  you  are  prepared.  Do  nothing  foolish.  So 


NORA. 


75 


soon  as  Helmer  has  received  my  letter  I shall  expect  to 
hear  from  him.  And  bear  in  mind  that  it  is  your  husband 
himself  who  has  forced  me  back  again  into  such  paths. 
That  I will  never  forgive  him.  .Good-bye,  Mrs.  Helmer 
{goes  through  the  halt). 

SCENE  IX. 

Nora.  Then  Mrs.  Linden. 

N ORA  {hurries  to  the  door , opens  it  a little , and  listens). 
He  is  going.  He  is  not  putting  the  letter  in  the  box. 
No,  no,  it  would  be  quite  impossible.  {Opens  the  door 
further  and  further.)  What  does  that  mean?  He  is 
standing  still,  not  going  down  the  stairs.  Is  he  thinking 
better  of  it  ? Would  he  ? {A  letter  falls  into  the  box  ; 
Krogstad’s  steps  are  then  heard  until  lost  in  the  distance 
down  the  stairs.) 

N ORA  {with  a suppressed  cry  rushes  through  the  room  to 
the  sofa- table ; short  pause). 

In  the  letter-box  {goes  quietly  and  twiidly  to  the  door). 
There  it  lies.  Torvald,  Torvald,  now  we  are  lost. 

Mrs.  Linden  {with  the  costume  from  the  left  room). 
Yes,  now  I have  got  it  into  nice  order  again.  Should 
we  just  try  it  on  ? 

Nora  {hoarsely  and  softly). 

Christina,  do  come  here. 

Mrs.  Linden  {throws  the  dress  on  the  sofa). 
What’s  the  matter  ? You  look  so  disturbed. 

Nora. 

Do  come  here.  Do  you  see  the  letter  ? There,  see, 
through  the  wire-work  of  the  letter-box. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes,  yes  ; I see  it. 

Nora. 

That  letter  is  from  Krogstad. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Nora,  it  was  Krogstad  who  lent  you  the  money. 


76 


NORA. 


Nora. 

Yes ; and  now  Torvald  will  know  all  about  it. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Believe  me,  Nora,  it  is  the  best  thing  for  you  both. 
Nora. 

You  don’t  know  all  yet.  I have  forged  a name. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Good  heavens  ! 

Nora. 

I only  wanted  to  tell  you  that,  Christina ; you  shall  be 
my  witness. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

How  6 witness  ’ ? What  am  I to — ? 

Nora. 

If  I lose  my  mind,  and  that  might  easily  happen. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Nora  ! 

Nora. 

Or  if  any  other  blow  should  strike  me — anything  such 
as  my  not  being  here  present. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Nora,  Nora,  you  don’t  know  what  you’re  saying. 

Nora. 

In  case  there  were  to  be  anybody  who  wanted  to  take 
the  . . . the  whole  blame,  I mean  . . . 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes,  yes  ; but  how  can  you  think  . . . 

Nora. 

Then  you  will  be  able  to  bear  witness  that  it  is  not  true, 
Christina.  I know  very  well  what  I am  saying.  I am  in 
full  possession  of  my  senses  ; and  I say  to  you  : Nobody 
else  knew  anything  about  it;  I alone  have  done  every- 
thing. Don’t  forget  that. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I won’t  forget  it.  But  I haven’t  the  remotest  notion 
what  it  all  means. 


NORA. 


77 


Nora. 

Oh,  how  should  you  ? But  a miracle  will  come  to  pass 
even  yet. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

A miracle  ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  a miracle  ; but  it  is  so  terrible,  Christina.  It  must 
not  happen  for  anything  in  the  world. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I will  go  to  Krogstad  at  once  and  talk  to  him. 

Nora. 

Don’t  go  to  him.  He  will  do  you  some  injury. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

There  was  a time  when  for  love  of  me  he  would  have 
done  anything. 

Nora. 

He? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Where  does  he  live  ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  how  can  I tell  ? Yes  ( feels  in  her  pocket)  ; here  I 
have  a card  of  his.  But  the  letter,  the  letter. 

SCENE  X. 

The  Preceding.  H elmer  outside . 

H ELMER  (in  his  room  knocks  at  the  door). 

Nora  ! 

Nora  (cries  out  anxiously). 

Yes  ; what  is  it  ? What  do  you  want  with  me  ? 

Helmer. 

Well,  well,  don’t  be  so  frightened.  We  aren’t  coming 
in  ; you  have  bolted  the  door,  you  know.  You  are  trying 
your  dress  on,  I dare  say. 

Nora. 

Yes,  yes;  I’m  trying  it  on.  It  suits  me  so  well, 
Torvald. 


78 


NORA. 


Mrs.  Linden  (who  has  read  the  card). 

Then  he  lives  close  by  here,  at  the  corner  ? 

Nora. 

Yes ; but  it,s  no  use  now.  We  are  lost.  The  letter  is 
actually  in  the  box. 

Mrs  Linden. 

And  your  husband  has  the  key  ? 

Nora. 

Always. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Krogstad  must  ask  to  have  his  letter  back  unread.  He 
must  make  some  excuse — 

Nora. 

But  this  is  the  very  time  when  Torvald  generally — 
Mrs.  Linden. 

Prevent  him  ; go  and  stay  with  him  all  the  time.  I will 
come  back  as  quickly  as  I can.  ( She  goes  quickly  away 
through  the  entrance  door. ) 

Nora  {goes  to  Helmer’s  door,  opens  it,  and  peeps  in). 
Torvald. 

SCENE  XI. 

Nora.  Helmer.  Then  Rank.  Later  Mrs. 
Linden  and  Ellen. 

Helmer  (in  the  back-rooni). 

Well,  now  may  one  come  back  into  one’s  own  room  ? 
Come,  Rank,  now  we’ll  just  have  a look  (in  the  door).  But 
what  is  that  ? 

Nora. 

What  is  what,  Torvald  dear? 

Helmer. 

Rank  led  me  to  expect  a grand  dress-transformation 
scene. 

Rank  (in  the  door). 

So  I understood ; I was  mistaken  too. 

Nora. 

No  ; before  to-morrow  evening  you  will  neither  of  you 
get  any  opportunity  Gf  admiring  me. 


NORA. 


79 


H ELMER. 

But,  dear  Nora,  you  look  so  tired.  Have  you  been 
practising  too  hard  ? 

Nora. 

No,  I haven’t  practised  at  all  yet. 

Helmer. 

But  you  really  must. 

Nora. 

Yes,  it  is  quite  indispensable,  Torvald.  But  without 
your  help  it  won’t  go  on  well ; I have  forgotten  everything. 

Helmer. 

Oh,  we’ll  soon  freshen  it  all  up  again. 

Nora. 

Yes,  do  help  me,  Torvald.  You  promised  me  you 
would,  didn’t  you  ? Oh!  I am  so  anxious  about  it.  Before 
such  a large  party  . . . this  evening  you  must  devote  to 
me  exclusively.  No  work  allowed,  no  pen  touched ! Say 
‘ yes.’  Am  I not  right,  Torvald  ? 

Helmer. 

I promise  you  : all  this  evening  I will  be  at  your  entire 
disposal.  You  little  helpless  thing — hm,  it  is  true ; but 
I will  first — ( Goes  toward  the  hall  door.) 

Nora. 

What  do  you  want  outside  there  ? 

Helmer. 

Only  to  see  if  any  letters  have  come. 

Nora. 

No,  no,  don’t  do  that,  Torvald. 

Helmer. 

But  why  not  ? 

Nora. 

Torvald,  I beg  you  not  to ; there  are  none  there. 

Helmer. 

Let  me  just  see  ( will  go). 

(Nora,  at  the  piano,  plays  the  first  bars  of  the  tarantella.) 

Helmer  ( standing  still  in  the  door). 


Ah! 


8o 


NORA. 


Nora. 

I can’t  dance  to-morrow  if  I don’t  practise  with  you 
first. 

H ELMER  {going  to  her). 

Are  you  really  so  afraid,  dear  Nora? 

Nora. 

Yes,  so  dreadfully  afraid.  Let  me  practise  at  once  ; we 
have  a little  time  left  before  dinner.  Oh  ! sit  down  here 
and  accompany  me,  Torvald  dear  ; correct  and  teach  me 

if  I . . . 

H ELMER. 

With  all  the  pleasure  in  life,  since  you  wish  it.  {He  sits 
down  to  the  piano  i) 

Nora  {takes  the  tambourine , and  a long  gay  shawl  from 
the  box;  drapes  herself  with  the  shawl  very  rapidly ; then 
with  a bound  comes  to  the  front  of  the  stage). 

Now  you  play  and  I will  dance.  (HELMER^Azys*,  Nora 
dances;  Rank  stands  at  the  piano  behind  H elmer  and 
watches .) 

H elmer  {playing). 

Slower,  slower  ! 

Nora. 

I can’t  do  it  differently. 

Helmer. 

Not  so  violently,  Nora. 

Nora. 

That  is  just  its  style. 

Helmer  {stops). 

No,  no  ; it  isn’t  right. 

N ora  {laughs  and  swings  the  tambourine). 

Didn’t  I tell  you  so  ? 

Rank. 

I will  accompany  you  a little. 

Helmer  {rising). 

Yes  ; do  so ; then  I can  correct  her  better.  (Rank  sits 
down  to  the  piano  and  plays.  Nora  dances  more  and  more 
wildly.  Helmer  stands  by  the  fire  and  addresses  frequent 
remarks  in  correction  during  the  dance.  She  seems  not  to 


NORA. 


hear  them.  Her  hair  gets  loose  and  falls  on  her  shoulders ; 
she  does  not  heed  it , but  goes  on  dancing.  Mrs.  Linden 
enters .) 

Mrs.  Linden  ( stands  as  though  spell-bound  in  the 

doorway ). 

Oh! 

Nora  {dancing'). 

It  is  merry  enough  here,  Christina. 

H ELMER. 

But,  dearest  Nora,  you  are  dancing  as  if  it  were  a matter 
of  life  and  death. 

Nora. 

And  so  it  is. 

H ELMER. 

Rank,  just  stop  ; this  is  the  merest  madness.  . . Stop, 
I say.  (Rank  stops  playing,  and  Nora  comes  to  a sudde?i 
standstill .) 

H ELMER  {going  towards  her). 

I should  never  have  believed  it.  You  have  positively 
forgotten  the  whole  thing. 

Nora  {throws  the  tambourine  away). 

You  see  for  yourself. 

H ELMER. 

You  really  do  want  teaching. 

Nora. 

Yes  ; now  you  see  how  needful  it  is.  You  must  practise 
with  me  up  to  the  last  moment.  Will  you,  Torvald? 
Helmer. 

Certainly,  certainly. 

Nora. 

Neither  to-day  nor  to-morrow  must  you  think  about 
anything  but  me ; you  must  not  open  a single  letter,  not 
so  much  as  the  letter-box. 

Helmer. 

Oh,  you  are  still  afraid  of  that  man. 

Nora. 

Yes,  I am. 

G 


82 


NORA. 


H ELMER. 

Nora,  I can  see  it  in  your  manner.  There  is  a letter 
from  him  in  the  box  now. 

Nora. 

I don’t  know  ; I believe  so.  But  you  are  not  to  read 
anything  of  that  sort — nothing  of  a worrying  kind  must 
come  between  us  until  everything  is  over. 

Rank  ( softly  to  H elmer). 

You  mustn’t  contradict  her. 

H ELMER  putting  his  arm  round  her). 

The  child  shall  have  her  own  way.  But  to-morrow 
night,  when  you  have  danced — 

Nora. 

Then  you  will  be  free. 

Ellen  (in  the  left  door). 

Dinner  is  ready,  ma’am. 

Nora. 

We  will  have  some  champagne,  Ellen. 

Ellen. 

Yes,  ma’am  (goes). 

Helmer. 

Dear,  dear,  quite  a banquet ! 

Nora. 

Yes,  a champagne  banquet  until  morning  dawns.  (Calls 
out.)  And  maccaroons,  Ellen — plenty — a great  many — 
just  this  once. 

Helmer  (taking  her  hands). 

Come,  come,  not  this  awful  wildness.  Be  my  gentle 
little  lark  once  more. 

Nora. 

Oh,  yes,  I will.  But  now  go  into  the  dining-room ; and 
you  too,  Doctor  Rank.  Christina,  you  must  help  me  to 
do  my  hair. 

Rank  (softly  as  they  go). 

There  is  nothing  in  the  wind?  Nothing  . . I mean  . . . 


NORA. 


83 


Helmer. 

Nothing  whatever,  my  dear  Rank.  It  is  merely  this 
babyish  anxiety  I was  telling  you  about.  ( Both  go  to  the 
right.') 

Nora. 

Well? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

He  is  gone  out  of  town. 

Nora. 

I saw  it  in  your  face. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

He  only  returns  to-morrow  evening.  I left  a note  for 
him  there. 

Nora. 

You  should  not  have  done  that.  You  ought  not  to  hinder 
anything.  After  all,  there  is  something  glorious  in  ex- 
pecting a miracle  to  happen. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

What  do  you  expect,  then  ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  you  can’t  understand.  Go  to  them  in  the  dining- 
room ; I’ll  come  in  a moment.  (Mrs.  Linden  goes  to 
the  dining-room — right.) 

SCENE  XII. 

Nora.  Then  Helmer. 

Nora  ( stands  a while  as  though  collecting  her  thoughts. 

Then  looks  at  her  watch). 

Five — seven  hours  before  midnight.  Then  twenty- 
four  hours  before  the  next  midnight.  Then  the  tarantella 
will  be  over.  Twenty-four  and  seven.  Still  thirty-one 
hours  to  live. 

Helmer  (in  the  right-hand  door). 

But  where  is  my  little  lark  ? 

Nora  (runs  with  open  arms  towards  him). 

Here  she  is. 


G 2 


84 


NORA. 


ACT  III. 

THE  SAME  ROOM. 

{The  sofa-table  is  in  the  middle , together  with  the  chairs 
surrounding  it.  A lamp  lit  is  on  the  table . The  door  to 
the  hall  stands  open.  Dance-music  is  heard  from  over- 
headi) 

SCENE  I. 

Mrs.  Linden  sits  by  the  table  and  turns  the  pages  of  a 
book  absently.  She  tries  to  read , but  seems  unable  to  fix 
her  attention  ; she  frequently  listens  and  looks  anxiously 
towards  the  hall  door.  Then  enter  Krogstad. 

Mrs.  Linden  {looking  at  her  watch). 

Not  here  yet.  And  it  is  the  latest  time  I mentioned. 
If  he  only  doesn’t  . . . {listens  again).  Oh,  there  he  is  ! 
{She  goes  into  the  hall  and  opens  the  corridor-door  care- 
fully; a light  tread  is  heard  on  the  steps.  She  whispers.) 
Come  in.  Nobody  is  here. 

Krogstad  {in  the  door-way). 

I found  a note  from  you  at  my  house.  What  does  that 
mean  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

It  is  absolutely  necessary  I should  speak  with  you. 
Krogstad. 

Indeed?  And  was  it  absolutely  necessary  the  inter- 
view should  take  place  here  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

It  was  impossible  at  my  lodgings.  I have  no  sitting- 
room  to  myself.  Come  in ; we  are  quite  alone.  The 
servants  are  asleep,  and  the  Helmers  are  at  the  ball  next 
door. 

Krogstad  {coming  into  the  room). 

Ah!  what?  The  Helmers  are  dancing  this  evening? 
Really  ? 


NORA. 


85 


Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes.  Why  not  ? 

Krogstad. 

Quite  right.  Why  not  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

And  now,  Mr.  Krogstad,  let  us  talk  a little. 

Krogstad. 

Have  we  anything  left  to  say  to  each  other  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

We  have  a great  deal  to  say. 

Krogstad. 

I should  not  have  thought  so. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Because  you  have  never  really  understood  me. 
Krogstad. 

Was  there  anything  more  to  understand  than  what  was 
clear  as  daylight?  A heartless  woman  jilts  a man  when 
a better  match  offers  itself. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Do  you  consider  me  so  utterly  heartless  ? Do  you  think 
I should  have  broken  it  off  with  a light  heart  ? 

Krogstad. 

Didn’t  you  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Did  you  really  think  that  of  me,  Nils? 

Krogstad. 

Then  why  did  you  write  me  such  a letter  as  you  wrote 
at  the  time  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I really  could  not  do  otherwise.  Since  I had  to  break 
with  you,  it  surely  was  also  my  duty  to  destroy  in  your 
heart  everything  you  felt  for  me. 

Krogstad  (squeezing  his  hands  together). 

So  that  was  it  And  all— all  for  the  sake  of  money  only. 
Mrs.  Linden. 

You  ought  not  to  forget  that  I had  a helpless  mother 


86 


NORA. 


and  two  little  brothers.  We  could  not  wait  for  you,  Nils  ; 
at  that  time  you  had  but  poor  prospects. 

Krogstad. 

Very  likely ; but  you  had  no  right  to  turn  me  off  for 
the  sake  of  any  other  man. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Oh,  I don’t  know.  I have  asked  myself  often  enough 
since  whether  I had  the  right  to  do  it. 

Krogstad  {more  gently). 

When  I had  lost  you,  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  the 
very  ground  had  sunk  away  from  under  my  feet.  Just 
look  at  me  : I am  a ship-wrecked  man  on  a raft  now. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I should  think  some  help  was  close  at  hand. 

Krogstad. 

It  was  at  hand ; but  then  you  came  and  stood  in  my 
way. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Without  knowing  it,  Nils.  It  was  only  this  morning 
I learnt  that  it  was  your  post  I had  got. 

Krogstad. 

I believe  you,  since  you  say  so.  But  now  you  do  know 
it,  do  you  mean  to  give  it  up  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

No ; for  that  would  not  help  you  in  the.  least. 

Krogstad. 

Oh,  ‘help,’  ‘help.’  I should  do  it  whether  or  no. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Life  and  hard,  bitter  necessity  have  taught  me  to  act 
prudently. 

Krogstad. 

And  life  has  taught  me  not  to  trust  fine  speeches. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Then  life  has  taught  you  a very  sensible  thing.  But  I 
suppose  you  do  trust  deeds  ? 

Krogstad. 

What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? 


NORA. 


87 


Mrs.  Linden. 

You  said  you  were  a shipwrecked  man  on  a raft. 
Krogstad. 

I have  good  reason  to  say  so. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I too  have  suffered  shipwreck,  and  am  on  a raft. 
Krogstad. 

You  made  your  own  choice. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I had  no  choice  at  the  time. 

Krogstad. 

Well,  what  more  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Nils,  how  would  it  be  if  we  two  shipwrecked  people  could 
belong  to  each  other  ? 

Krogstad. 

What  are  you  saying  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Two  people  have  better  chance  of  being  saved  on  a raft 
than  if  each  stays  on  his  own. 

Krogstad. 

Christina  ! 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Why  do  you  think  I came  here,  to  town  ? 

Krogstad. 

Was  it  with  some  thought  of  me  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I must  work  in  order  to  endure  life.  I have  worked 
from  my  youth  up,  and  work  has  been  my  one  best  friend. 
But  now  I am  quite  alone  in  the  world — so  terribly  empty 
and  forsaken.  There  is  no  happiness  in  working  for 
oneself.  Nils,  give  me  somebody  and  something  to 
work  for. 

Krogstad. 

I don’t  believe  a word  of  it.  It  is  nothing  but  a woman’s 
exaggerated  notion  of  self-sacrifice. 


88 


WOE*  A. 


Mrs.  Linden. 

Have  you  ever  noticed  any  exaggeration  in  me  ? 

Krogstad. 

What ! You  really  could  ? Tell  me,  do  you  know  my 
past  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes. 

Krogstad. 

And  do  you  know  my  reputation  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Did  you  not  hint  it  just  now,  when  you  said  that  with 
me  you  could  have  been  another  man  ? 

Krogstad. 

I am  perfectly  certain  of  it. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Could  it  not  yet  be  so  ? 

Krogstad. 

Christina,  do  you  say  this  after  full  deliberation  ? Yes, 
you  do.  I see  it  in  your  face.  Then  you  really  have  the 
courage  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I need  somebody  to  mother,  and  your  children  need  a 
mother.  We  two  are  necessary  to  each  other.  Nils,  I 
believe  in  the  nobler  part  of  your  nature.  With  you  I dare 
attempt  anything ! 

Krogstad  ( seizing  her  hands). 

Thank  you,  thank  you,  Christina.  Now  I shall  know 
how  to  set  about  raising  myself  in  the  eyes  of  others.  Oh, 
but  I forgot  . . . 

Mrs.  Linden  [listens). 

Hush  ! the  tarantella  ! Go,  go. 

Krogstad. 

Why,  what  is  it? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Don’t  you  hear  the  dancing  overhead  ? When  that  is 
over  they  will  come  back. 

Krogstad. 

All  right  ; I’ll  go.  But  it’s  too  late  now.  Of  course 


NORA. 


89 


you  don’t  know  what  it  is  I have  set  going  against  the 
Helmers  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes,  Nils,  I know. 

Krogstad. 

And  nevertheless  you  have  the  courage  to — 

Mrs.  Linden. 

I can  very  well  comprehend  to  what  lengths  despair 
may  drive  a man  like  you. 

Krogstad. 

Oh,  if  I could  but  undo  my  share  in  it ! 

Mrs.  Linden. 

You  can,  for  your  letter  lies  there  in  the  box. 

Krogstad. 

Does  it  really  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes ; but  . . . 

Krogstad  ( looking  at  her  searching ly). 

Is  that  the  explanation  of  it  ? You  wanted  to  save  your 
friend  at  any  price.  Say  it  straight  out.  Is  that  the  way 
the  land  lies  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Nils,  a person  who  has  once  sold  herself  for  the  sake  of 
others  never  does  it  again. 

Krogstad. 

I will  ask  to  have  my  letter  back  again. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

No,  no. 

Krogstad. 

Yes  ; I shall  stop  here  till  Helmer  comes.  I shall  ask 
to  have  my  letter  back ; I shall  tell  him  it  merely  relates 
to  my  dismissal,  and  that  he  had  better  not  read  it. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

No,  Nils,  you  must  not  ask  for  the  letter  back. 

Krogstad. 

But  tell  me,  wasn’t  that  the  very  reason  for  your  bidding 
me  come  here  ? 


90 


NOR,  A. 


Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes,  in  my  first  moment  of  terror.  But  since  then  more 
than  twenty-four  hours  have  gone  by,  and  during  that 
time  I have  heard  things  in  this  house  that  are  beyond 
belief.  Helmer  must  know  everything ; between  those 
two  there  must  be  the  completest  possible  understanding, 
and  that  can  never  come  to  pass  while  all  these  excuses 
and  concealments  are  going  on. 

Krogstad. 

Very  well,  since  you  are  so  bold.  But  in  any  case, 
there  is  one  thing  I can  do,  and  it  shall  be  done  at 
once. 

Mrs.  Linden  {listens). 

Make  haste  ; go,  go.  The  dance  is  over ; we  are  not 
safe  another  moment. 

Krogstad. 

I will  wait  for  you  in  the  street,  in  front  here. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes,  do.  You  must  take  me  home. 

Krogstad. 

Oh  ! I never  was  so  happy  in  all  my  life  before.  {Goes. 
The  door  between  the  room  and  the  hall  remains  open 
during  the  following. ) 


SCENE  II. 

Mrs.  Linden.  Then  Helmer  #^Nora. 

Mrs.  Linden  {sets  the  furniture  a little  straight  and  puts 
her  walking  things  together ). 

What  a change  ! what  a happy  change,  to  have  some- 
body to  work  for,  to  live  for ! to  bring  loving  order  into 
a deserted  home  ! Yes,  that  is  what  I will  do.  . . . If  they 
came  soon  {listens).  Ah,  here  they  are  ! Where  are  my 
things?  {Takes  bonnet  and  cloak.  Helmer’s  and  Nora’s 
voices  are  heard ; a key  is  turned  in  the  lock , and  Helmer 
drags  Nora  almost  violently  into  the  hall.  She  wears 
the  Italian  costume  with  a large  black  shawl  over  it. 
He  is  in  evening  dress , with  an  open  black  domino.) 


NORA. 


9i 


Nora  {still  in  the  door , struggling  with  him). 

No,  no,  no  ; I won’t  go  in  ; I want  to  go  up-stairs  again. 
I don’t  want  to  leave  the  ball  so  early.  . : 

H ELMER. 

But,  dearest  Nora — 

Nora. 

Oh,  I do  beg  you  so  imploringly,  so  earnestly,  Torvald — 
only  one  more  hour. 

H ELMER. 

Not  another  minute,  Nora  dear.  You  know  we  settled 
it  should  be  this  way.  Come,  go  into  the  room  ; you  are 
catching  cold  here.  {He  leads  her  gently  into  the  room  in 
spite  of  her  resistance .) 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Good  evening. 

Nora. 

Christina  ! 

H ELMER. 

What,  Mrs.  Linden,  you  here  so  late  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes,  pardon  me;  I did  so  want  to  see  Nora  in  her 
costume. 

Nora. 

Have  you  been  sitting  here  waiting  for  me  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes.  Unfortunately  I did  not  come  early  enough.  You 
were  already  gone  up-stairs,  and  then  I did  not  wish  to  go 
away  again  without  seeing  you. 

H ELMER  {taking  Nora’s  shawl  off). 

Well,  then,  just  look  at  her,  but  quietly.  I think  she 
is  worth  looking  at.  Is  she  not  beautiful,  Mrs.  Linden  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes,  I must  say — 

H ELMER. 

Is  she  not  wonderfully  lovely  ? That  was  the  general 
opinion  at  the  ball.  But  she  is  dreadfully  obstinate, — 
dear  little  creature  ! What  is  to  be  done  with  her  ? Will 


92 


NORA. 


you  believe  it,  I had  almost  to  use  force  to  get  her  away 
from  the  ball  ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  Torvald,  you  will  be  sorry  you  did  not  let  me  stop 
at  least  half  an  hour  longer. 

H ELMER. 

There  ! you  hear  her,  Mrs.  Linden  ? She  dances  her 
tarantella,  wins  wild  applause, — which,  however,  wras 
but  due  to  her,  although  perhaps  her  rendering  was  a 
little  too  realistic ; I mean  ...  a little  more  than  could 
be  reconciled  with  the  strict  demands  of  art.  But  be  that 
as  it  may,  the  chief  thing  was  she  got  applauded,  wildly 
applauded.  Ought  I to  have  let  her  stay  any  longer, 
and  weaken  the  impression  ? Not  if  I know  it.  I took 
my  charming  Capri  maiden,  I might  say  my  capricious 
maiden  from  Capri,  under  my  arm  ; a rapid  turn  round  the 
room ; bows  from  all  sides,  and,  as  they  say  in  novels — 
the  lovely  apparition  was  gone.  A departure  should 
always  be  effective,  Mrs.  Linden  ; but  I can't  get  Nora  to 
see  i;.  . . By  Jove,  it's  warm  here.  {Throws  his  domino 
on  a chair  and  opens  the  door  to  his  room.)  What  ? It’s 
very  dark  here.  Yes,  of  course;  pardon  me.  {He  goes 
inside  and  lights  two  candles.) 


Nora  {whispers  quickly  and  breathlessly ). 
Well? 

Mrs.  Linden  {softly). 

I have  spoken  to  him. 


And—? 


Nora. 


Mrs.  Linden. 

Nora.  . . You  must  tell  your  husband  everything. 


I knew  it. 


Nora. 


Mrs.  Linden. 

You  have  nothing  to  fear  from  Krogstad,  but  you  must 
speak. 


Nora. 


I shall  not  speak. 


NOHA. 


93 


Mrs.  Linden. 

Then  the  letter  will. 

Nora. 

Thank  you,  Christina.  Now  I know  what  I must  do. 
Hush! 

H ELMER  (coming  back). 

Well,  Mrs.  Linden,  have  you  admired  her? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes  ; and  now  I will  say  good  night. 

Helmer. 

What,  already?  Does  this  knitting  belong  to  you? 

Mrs.  Linden  ( taking  it). 

Yes,  thanks  ; I was  nearly  forgetting  it. 

Helmer. 

Then  you  do  knit  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes. 

Helmer. 

Do  you  know,  you  ought  to  crochet  instead  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Indeed  ! Why  ? 

Helmer. 

Because  it  looks  better.  Look  now.  You  hold  the 
crochet  work  in  the  left  hand  in  this  way,  and  then  move 
the  needle  about  with  the  right  hand — in  and  out — in  an 
easy,  long-shaped  bow,  don’t  you  ? 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Yes,  I dare  say  you  do. 


Helmer. 

While  in  knitting,  on  the  contrary,  it  always  looks  ugly. 
Look  now,  your  arms  are  bent  tightly  together,  and  the 
needles  go  up  and  down ; there  is  something  Chinese  in 
it.  . . Oh ! that  really  was  splendid  champagne  we  had 
at  the  ball. 


94 


NORA. 


Mrs.  Linden. 

Now,  good  night,  Nora,  and  don’t  be  obstinate  any 
more. 

H ELMER. 

Well  said,  Mrs.  Linden. 

Mrs.  Linden. 

Good  night,  Mr.  Helmer. 

H elmer  ( going  with  her  to  the  door). 

Good  night,  good  night.  I hope  you’ll  get  safely  home. 
I would  gladly  . . . but  it  really  is  not  far  for  you.  Good 
night,  good  night.  {She  goes.  He  shuts  the  door  behind 
her  and  comes  to  the  front  of  the  stage  again.) 

SCENE  III. 

Helmer.  Nora. 

Helmer. 

There,  now  we’ve  shut  the  door  on  her.  She  is  an 
awful  bore. 

Nora. 

Aren’t  you  very  tired,  Torvald? 

Helmer. 

No,  not  in  the  least. 

Nora. 

N or  sleepy  ? 

Helmer. 

Not  a bit.  On  the  contrary,  I feel  most  lively.  But 
you  ? Yes,  you  look  really  tired  and  sleepy. 

Nora. 

Yes,  I am  very  tired.  I shall  soon  be  asleep  now. 
Helmer. 

There  now,  you  see.  I was  right,  after  all,  in  not 
stopping  longer  with  you  at  the  ball. 

Nora. 

Oh,  all  is  right  that  you  do. 

Helmer  ( kisses  her  on  the  forehead). 

That  is  my  dear  little  lark  speaking  like  a human 


NORA. 


95 


being.  Did  you  happen  to  notice,  too,  how  merry  Rank 
was  this  evening  ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  was  he  really  ? I had  no  opportunity  of  speaking 
with  him. 

Helmer. 

Nor  had  I,  much  ; but  I have  not  seen  him  in  such 
good  spirits  for  a long  time.  ( Looks  at  her fora  little  while , 
then  comes  nearer  to  her.)  Hm  . . . but  it  is  quite  too 
supremely  delightful  to  be  back  in  our  own  home,  for  me 
to  be  quite  alone  with  you.  Oh,  you  enchanting,  glorious 
woman  ! 

Nora. 

Don’t  look  at  me  in  that  way,  Torvald. 

Helmer. 

I am  not  to  look  at  my  dearest  treasure  ? — all  the  glory 
that  is  mine,  mine  only,  wholly  and  altogether  mine. 

Nora  {goes  to  the  other  side  of  the  table  t ). 

You  must  not  talk  to  me  in  that  way  this  evening. 

Helmer  {following  her). 

I see,  you  have  the  tarantella  still  in  your  blood  ; and 
that  makes  you  more  enchanting  than  ever.  Listen  : the 
other  guests  are  beginning  to  go  now.  {More  softly .) 
Nora,  soon  all  the  house  will  be  still. 

Nora. 

I hope  so. 

Helmer. 

Yes  ; don’t  you,  Nora  darling  ? Oh,  do  you  know,  when 
I go  into  society  with  you  in  this  way,  do  you  know  why 
I speak  so  little  to  you,  and  keep  at  such  a distance  from 
you,  and  only  steal  a glance  at  you  now  and  then — do  you 
know  why  I do  it?  Because  I am  fancying  that  you  are 
one  whom  I love  in  secret,  that  I am  secretly  betrothed 
to  you,  and  that  nobody  guesses  there  is  any  particular 
understanding  between  us. 

Nora. 

Yes,  yes,  yes  ; I know  very  well  that  all  your  thoughts 
are  with  me. 


9s 


NORA. 


Helmer. 

And  then,  when  we  have  to  go  home,  and  I put  the 
shawl  about  your  dear  young  shoulders,  and  this  glorious 
throat  of  yours,  I imagine  you  are  my  bride,  and  that  we 
are  coming  straight  from  our  wedding,  and  that  I am 
bringing  you  for  the  first  time  to  my  home,  and  that  I am 
alone  with  you  for  the  first  time,  quite  alone  with  you,  you 
shy,  beautiful  thing.  All  this  evening  I was  longing  for 
you,  and  you  only.  When  I watched  you  chasing  and 
beckoning  during  the  tarantella,  it  seemed  to  set  my 
blood  on  fire  ; I could  endure  it  no  longer  . . . and  that:s 
why  I made  you  come  home  with  me  so  early. 

Nora. 

Go  now,  Torvald  ; you  must  leave  me  alone.  I don’t 
want  all  that. 

Helmer. 

What  can  you  mean  ? You  must  be  joking  with  me, 
my  pet.  You  don’t  want  ....  Am  I not  your  husband? 
{A  knock.') 

Nora  ( with  a start). 

Do  you  hear  ? 

Helmer  ( at  the  hall  door).. 

Who  is  there  ? 

SCENE  IV. 

The  Preceding.  Rank. 

Rank  {outside). 

It  is  I.  May  I come  in  for  a moment? 

Helmer  {in  a low  tone , annoyed). 

Oh,  dear,  what  can  he  want  at  this  time  of  night  ? 
{Aloud.)  Wait  a little.  {Goes  and  opens  the  door.)  Come, 
it  is  nice  of  you  not  to  pass  by  our  door. 

Rank. 

I thought  I heard  your  voices,  and  that  made  me  long 
just  to  look  in.  {Glances  rapidly  ?'ound  the  room.)  Yes, 
here  is  the  dear  place  I know  so  well.  It  is  so  quiet  and 
comfortable  here  with  you  two. 


NORA. 


97 


Helmer. 

You  seemed  to  enjoy  yourself  exceedingly  up-stairs  too. 
Rank. 

Exceedingly.  Why  should  I not  ? Why  shouldn’t  one 
get  enjoyment  out  of  everything  in  this  world  ? At  any 
rate  as  much  and  as  long  as  one  can.  The  wine  was 
splendid. 

Helmer. 

Especially  the  champagne. 

Rank. 

Did  you  notice  it  too?  It  was  perfectly  incredible  the 
quantity  I contrived  to  drink. 

Nora. 

Torvald  drank  a great  deal  of  champagne  this  evening 
too. 

Rank. 

Did  he  ? 

Nora. 

Yes ; and  after  it  he  is  always  in  such  a good  temper. 
Rank. 

Well,  why  should  one  not  have  a merry  evening  after  a 
well-spent  day  ? 

Helmer. 

Well-spent?  As  to  that  I have  not  much  to  boast  of. 

Rank  ( tapping  him  on  the  shoulder ). 

But  I have,  don’t  you  see  ? 

Nora. 

Then  you  have  certainly  been  engaged  in  some  scientific 
investigation,  Doctor  Rank. 

Rank. 

Quite  right. 

Helmer. 

Just  see  ! Nora  talks  about  scientific  investigations. 
Nora. 

And  am  I to  congratulate  you  on  the  result  ? 

Rank. 

By  all  means  you  must. 

H 


98 


NORA. 


Nora. 

Then  the  result  was  a good  one. 

Rank. 

The  best  possible,  alike  for  the  physician  and  the 
patient — namely,  certainty. 

Nora  ( quickly  and  searchingly). 

Certainty  ? 

Rank. 

Complete  certainty.  Ought  not  I,  upon  the  strength  of 
it,  to  be  very  merry  this  evening  ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  you  were  quite  right  to  be,  Doctor  Rank. 

H ELMER. 

I say  the  same — provided  you  don’t  have  to  pay  for  it 
to-morrow. 

Rank. 

Well,  in  this  life  nothing  is  to  be  had  for  nothing. 
Nora. 

Doctor  Rank,  I am  sure  you  are  very  fond  of  masquerade 
balls.j 

Rank. 

When  there  are  plenty  of  interesting  masks  present,  I 
certainly  am. 

Nora. 

Listen,  and  tell  me  what  we  two  ought  to  appear  as  at 
our  next  masquerade.j 

fHELMER. 

You  giddy  little  thing,  are  you  thinking  already  about 
your  next  ball  ? 

Rank. 

We  two?  I will  tell  you.  You  must  go  as  the  lucky 
fairy. 

Helmer. 

Yes  ; but  think  of  a costume  to  suit  the  character. 
Rank. 

Let  your  wife  appear  in  her  every-day  dress. 


NORA. 


99 


Helmer. 

Very  nicely  said.  But  what  character  will  you  take  ? 
Rank. 

I am  perfectly  clear  as  to  that,  my  dear  friend  ? 
Helmer. 

Well  ? 

Rank. 

At  the  next  masquerade  I shall  appear  invisible. 
Helmer. 

What  a comical  idea ! 

Rank. 

Don’t  you  know  there  is  a big,  black  hat — haven’t  you 
heard  stories  of  the  hat  that  made  people  invisible  ? You 
pull  it  all  over  you,  and  then  nobody  sees  you. 

Helmer  ( with  a suppressed  smile). 

Oh,  I dare  say. 

Rank. 

But  I am  quite  forgetting  why  I came  in  here.  Helmer, 
just  give  me  a cigar — one  of  the  dark  Havannas. 

Helmer. 

With  the  greatest  pleasure  (hands  him  the  case). 

Rank  (takes  one  and  cuts  the  end  off). 

Thanks. 

N ORA  (hands  him  a fusee). 

Here  is  a light. 

Rank. 

A thousand  thanks.  (She  holds  the  match.  He  lights 
his  cigar  at  it.)  And  now  good-bye. 

Helmer. 

Good-bye,  good-bye,  my  dear  fellow. 

Nora. 

Sleep  well,  Doctor  Rank. 

Rank. 

I thank  you  for  that  kind  wish. 


H 2 


IOO 


NORA. 


Nora. 

Wish  me  the  same. 

Rank. 

You  ? Very  well,  since  you  ask  me  to — sleep  well.  And 
thank  you  for  the  light.  {He  nods  to  them  both  and  goes.) 

SCENE  V. 

Helmer.  Nora.  Later  Ellen. 

H elmer  {in  an  undertone). 

He’s  been  drinking  a good  deal  to-night. 

N ORA  {absently). 

I dare  say.  (Helmer  takes  his  bunch  of  keys  from  his 
pocket  and  goes  into  the  hall.)  Torvald,  what  are  you 
doing  out  there  ? 

Helmer. 

I must  empty  the  letter-box — it  is  quite  full ; or  to- 
morrow there  will  be  no  room  for  the  newspapers. 

Nora. 

Are  you  going  to  do  some  work  now  ? 

Helmer. 

Not  very  likely  ! What’s  this  ? Somebody’s  been  at  the 
lock. 

Nora. 

The  lock  ? 

Helmer. 

Positively.  What  does  it  mean  ? I can’t  suspect  that 
the  servants.  . . Here’s  a broken  hair-pin.  Nora,  it  is 
one  of  yours. 

N ORA  {quickly). 

Then  it  must  have  been  the  children. 

Helmer. 

Then  you  really  must  break  them  of  such  tricks.  Hm, 
hm.  There!  at  last  I’ve  got  it  open.  [Takes  the  contents 
out  and  calls  into  the  kitchen.)  Ellen,  Ellen  ; just  put  the 
hall  door  lamp  out.  {He  returns  to  the  room  and  shuts  the 


NORA. 


IOI 


door  into  the  hall.  With  letters  in  his  hand.)  Just  see  ! 
only  look  how  they  have  accumulated.  {Looks  among 
them. ) What’ s that  ? 

N ORA  (at  the  window). 

The  letter  ! oh,  no,  no,  Torvald  ! 

H ELMER. 

Two  visiting  cards — from  Rank. 

Nora. 

From  Doctor  Rank  ? 

H ELMER  (looking  at  them). 

Rank,  M.D.  They  were  on  the  top.  He  must  have 
just  put  them  in. 

Nora. 

Is  there  anything  on  them  ? 

H ELMER. 

Over  the  name  there  is  a black  cross.  Look  at  it.  That 
is  a very  ominous  sign.  Upon  my  word  it  is  as  though  he 
were  announcing  his  own  death. 

Nora. 

So  he  is. 

H ELMER. 

What  ! do  you  know  anything  ? did  he  tell  you  any- 
thing ? 

Nora. 

Yes.  He  said  that  when  the  card  came  it  would  mean 
he  had  taken  leave  of  us.  He  means  to  shut  himself  up 
and  die. 

Helmer. 

Poor  fellow  ! I did  know  that  we  should  not  be  able  to 
keep  him  much  longer.  But  so  soon  ! . . And  then  he 
goes  into  his  hiding-place  like  a wounded  animal. 

Nora. 

If  it  has  to  happen  it  is  best  for  it  to  happen  without 
words  ; is  it  not,  Torvald  ? 

Helmer  (walking  up  and  down). 

He  was  so  thoroughly  intimate  with  us.  I can  hardly 
fancy  our  life  without  him.  He  and  his  troubles  and 


102 


NORA. 


loneliness  formed  a sort  of  cloudy  background  to  our 
sunny  happiness.  Well,  perhaps  it  is  best  so — for  him, 
at  any  rate  {stands still).  And  perhaps  for  us  too.  Now 
we  two  are  thrown  entirely  upon  each  other.  {Puts  his 
arm  round  her.)  My  darling  wife  ! it  seems  to  me  as 
if  I could  never  hold  you  closely  enough.  Do  you  know, 
Nora,  I often  wish  some  danger  might  threaten  you, 
against  which  I could  stake  body  and  soul,  and  all,  all  else, 
for  your  dear  sake. 


Nora  {frees  herself  and  says  fir?nly  and  decidedly). 
Now  you  shall  read  your  letters,  Torvald. 


Helmer. 

No,  no,  not  to-night.  I want  to  stay  with  you,  sweet 
wife. 


Nora. 

With  the  thought  of  your  friend’s  death  ? 


Helmer. 

You  are  right,  dear.  It  has  shaken  us  both.  Some- 
thing unlovely  has  come  between  us : thoughts  of  death 
and  dissolution.  We  must  try  to  get  rid  of  them.  Till 
then — you  go  to  bed,  and  I will  go  to  my  room  a little. 

N ORA  {her  arms  round  his  neck). 

Torvald,  good  night,  good  night. 

Helmer  {kisses  her  on  the  forehead). 

Good  night,  my  little  singing  bird.  Sleep  well,  Nora. 
Now  I will  go  and  read  all  my  letters  through.  {He  goes 
with  the  bundle  of  letters  into  his  room  and  shuts  the  door 
behind  him.) 

Nora  {with  wild  glances,  wanders  round  touching  things, 
seizes  H ELMER’S  domino , throws  it  over  her , and  whispers 
quietly , hoarsely , and  brokenly). 

Never  see  him  again.  Never,  never,  never.  {Throws 
her  shawl  over  her  head.)  And  never  see  the  children 
again.  Not  them,  either.  Never,  never.  Oh,  that  black, 
icy  water  ! Oh,  that  bottomless.  . . Oh,  if  it  were  but 
over  ! Now  he  has  it ; now  he  is  reading  it.  Oh,  no,  no  ; 
not  yet.  Torvald,  good-bye,  you  and  the  children.  {She 


NORA. 


103 


is  rushing  out  through  the  hall;  in  the  same  moment 
H elmer  tears  his  door  open  and  stands  there  with  an  open 
letter  in  his  hand. ) 

H ELMER. 

N ora ! 

Nora  (crying  aloud). 

Ah! 

H ELMER. 

What  is  this  ? Do  you  know  what  is  in  this  letter  ? 
Nora. 

Yes,  I know.  Let  me  go  ; let  me  go  out. 

H elmer  (holding  her  back). 

Where  do  you  want  to  go  to  ? 

Nora  (tries  to  get  free). 

You  sha’n’t  save  me,  Torvald. 

H ELMER  (falling  back). 

True  ! is  it  true  what  he  writes?  Horrible  ! No,  no  ; 
it  is  perfectly  impossible ; it  cannot  be  true. 

Nora. 

It  is  true.  I have  loved  you  beyond  all  else  in  the 
world. 


Helmer. 

Don’t  come  to  me  with  silly  excuses. 

Nora  (a  step  nearer  to  him). 

Torvald  ! 

Helmer. 

You  miserable  creature — what  have  you  done  ? 

Nora. 

Let  me  go.  You  shall  not  suffer  for  it ; you  shall  not 
take  it  upon  yourself. 

Helmer. 

Don’t  try  any  actress’s  tricks  (shuts  the  door  to  the  hall). 
Here  you  will  stay  and  abide  my  judgment.  Do  you  com- 
prehend what  you  have  done?  Answer.  Do  you  under- 
stand it  ? 


io4 


NORA. 


N ORA  ( looks  at  him  fixedly , and  says  with  heightened 
expression ). 

Yes.  Now  I begin  to  understand  it  quite. 

H ELMER  {walking  round). 

Oh,  what  an  awful  awakening  ! During  all  these  eight 
years — you  who  were  my  pride  and  my  joy — a hypocrite, 
a liar, — ay,  and  worse,  worse — a criminal.  Oh  ! what  an 
abyss  of  unloveliness  it  implies  ! Ugh  ! ugh  ! 

(Nora  is  silent , and  continues  to  look  fixedly  at  him.) 

H ELMER  {continues  standing  before  her.) 

I ought  to  have  guessed  that  something  of  the  kind 
was  sure  to  happen.  I ought  to  have  foreseen  it.  Your 
father’s  low  principles, — be  silent! — your  father’s  low  prin- 
ciples you  have  inherited,  every  one  of  them.  No  religion, 
no  morality,  no  sense  of  duty.  Oh,  how  bitterly  punished 
I am  for  ever  having  winked  at  his  doings.  I did  it  for 
your  sake ; and  this  the  way  you  reward  me. 

Nora. 

Yes,  just  so. 

Helmer. 

You  have  utterly  destroyed  my  happiness ; you  have 
annihilated  my  whole  future.  Oh,  the  thought  of  it  is 
fearful ! I find  I am  in  the  power  of  a human  being  who 
is  devoid  of  conscience  ; he  can  do  whatever  he  pleases 
with  me,  ask  of  me  whatever  he  chooses,  order  me  about 
and  command  me  exactly  as  it  suits  him — I must  put  up 
with  it  in  silence.  . . And  I must  sink  in  this  pitiable  way 
and  go  to  ruin  for  the  sake  of  an  unprincipled  woman. 

Nora. 

When  I am  no  more  you  will  be  free. 

Helmer. 

No  fine  phrases,  if  you  please.  That’s  the  kind  of  thing 
your  father  was  always  ready  with.  What  sort  of  good 
would  it  do  me  if  you  were  ‘no  more/  as  you  say?  No 
good  in  the  world  ! In  spite  of  that  he  can  publish  the 
whole  story ; and  if  he  does  publish  it,  perhaps  I should 
be  suspected  of  having  been  a party  to  your  criminal 
transactions.  Perhaps  people  will  think  I was  the  origin- 


NORA. 


105 


ator,  that  I prompted  you  to  do  it.  And  for  all  this  I have 
you  to  thank— you  whom  during  the  whole  of  our  married 
life  I have  so  cherished.  Do  you  understand  now  what 
it  is  you  have  done  to  me  ? 

Nora  ( with  cold  cahn). 

Yes. 

Helmer. 

It  is  so  incredible  that  I can  still  hardly  believe  it.  But 
I must  come  to  some  de  ision.  Take  that  shawl  off. 
Take  it  off,  I say  ! I must  try  to  pacify  him  in  one 
way  or  the  other.  The  story  muM  be  kept  a secret,  cost 
what  it  may.  And  as  far  as  you  and  I are  concerned,  it 
must  appear  that  we  go  on  as  we  always  have  gone  on. 
But  of  course  only  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  Of  course 
you  will  continue  to  live  in  the  house ; that  is  understood. 
But  the  children  I shall  not  allow  you  to  educate  ; I dare 
not  trust  them  to  you.  . . Oh,  that  I should  have  to  say 
this  to  one  whom  I have  so  tenderly  loved  . . . whom  I 
still  . . . But  that  must  be  a thing  of  the  past.  Hence- 
forward there  can  be  no  question  of  happiness,  but  merely 
of  saving  the  ruins,  the  fragments,  the  appearance  of  it. 
{A  ring.  Helmer  recovers  himself l)  What’s  that?  So 
late  ! Can  it  be  the  most  terrible  thing  of  all  ? Can  he  ? 
— hide  yourself,  Nora;  say  you  are  ill.  (Nora  stands 
motionless . Helmer  goes  to  the  door  and  opens  it.) 

Ellen  ( half-undressed  in  the  hall). 

Here  is  a letter  for  mistress. 

Helmer. 

Give  it  to  me  [seizes  the  letter  and  shuts  the  door).  Yes, 
from  him.  You  will  not  have  it.  I shall  read  it. 

Nora. 

Read  it. 


Helmer  [by  the  lamp). 

I have  hardly  courage  to.  Perhaps  we  are  lost,  both 
you  and  I.  Ah  ! I must  know  [tears  the  letter  hastily 
open ; looks  at  an  enclosure  ; a cry  of  joy).  N ora  ! 


io6 


N ORA. 


(Nora  looks  interrogatively  at  him.) 

H ELMER. 

Nora  ! Indeed  I must  read  it  again.  Yes,  yes  ; it  is 
so.  I am  saved  ! Nora,  I am  saved  ! 

Nora. 

And  I ? 

Helmer. 

You  too,  of  course;  we  are  both  saved,  you  and  I. 
Look  here.  He  sends  you  back  your  acknowledgment  of 
the  debt ; he  writes  that  he  regrets  and  laments — that  a 
happy  turn  in  his  life — Oh,  it  can’t  matter  to  us  what  he 
writes.  We  are  saved,  Nora  ! Nobody  has  any  hold  over 
you.  Oh,  Nora,  Nora  ! Ah,  but  first  let  us  destroy  all 
these  horrible  pieces  of  writing.  . . . Pll  just  see,  though 
{glances  at  the  I.  O.  U.).  No,  I won’t  look  at  it ; the  whole 
thing  shall  be  no  more  to  me  than  a bad  dream.  ( Tears 
the  I.  O.  U.  and  both  the  letters  in  two , throws  ihe?n  i?ito 
the fire>  and  watches  them  burn.')  There,  it  has  no  further 
existence.  He  wrote  that  ever  since  Christmas  Day  you 
had  been  . . . Oh,  Nora,  they  must  have  been  three  awful 
days  for  you  ! 

Nora. 

I have  fought  a hard  fight  in  the  last  three  days. 
Helmer. 

What  tortures  you  must  have  suffered,  without  having 
any  other  means  of  escape  than  . . . but  we  won’t  think 
about  those  ugly  things  any  more  ; we  will  only  rejoice 
and  repeat:  It  is  all  over,  all  over.  Don’t  you  hear? 
Somehow,  Nora,  you  don’t  seem  able  to  grasp  it  yet  ! 
Yes,  it’s  over.  Then  what  can  be  the  meaning  of  this  set 
look  on  your  face  ? Oh,  poor  dear  Nora,  I quite  under- 
stand : you  can’t  believe  just  yet  that  I have  forgiven  you. 
But  I really  have  forgiven  you,  Nora  ; I swear  it  to  you  ; 
I have  forgiven  you  everything.  I know  so  well  you  did 
it  all  out  of  love  to  me. 


That  is  true. 


Nora. 


NORA. 


107 


H ELMER. 

You  loved  me  just  as  a wife  should  love  her  husband. 
It  was  only  the  means  you  could  not  judge  rightly  about. 
But  do  you  think  you  are  less  dear  to  me  for  not  know- 
ing how  to  act  alone  ? No,  indeed  ; only  lean  on  me  ; I 
will  advise  and  guide  you.  I should  be  no  true  man  if  it 
were  not  just  this  woman’s  helplessness  that  makes  you 
doubly  attractive  in  my  eyes.  You  must  not  dwell  on  the 
harsh  words  I spoke  in  my  first  moment  of  terror,  when  I 
believed  ruin  was  about  to  crush  my  very  life  out.  I 
have  forgiven  you,  Nora ; I swear  to  you  I have  forgiven 
you. 

Nora. 

I thank  you  fcr  your  forgiveness  {goes  through  the  left 
door), 

Helmer. 

No,  stay  {looks  in).  What  are  you  doing  in  the 
alcove  ? 

Nora  {inside). 

Taking  off  my  masquerade  dress. 

Helmer  {in  the  open  door). 

Yes,  do,  dear ; try  to  rest  and  restore  your  mind  to  its 
balance,  my  scared  little  song-bird.  You  may  go  to  rest 
in  comfort ; I have  broad  wings  to  protect  you  {walks 
round  by  the  door).  Oh,  how  beautiful  and  cosy  our  home 
is,  Nora.  Here  you  are  safe  ; here  I can  shelter  you  like 
a hunted  dove,  whom  I have  saved  from  the  claws  of  the 
hawk.  I shall  soon  quiet  your  poor  beating  heart. 
Believe  me,  Nora,  gradually  peace  will  return.  To-morrow 
all  this  will  look  quite  different  to  you ; I shall  not  need 
to  repeat  over  and  over  again  that  I forgive  you  : you  will 
feel  for  yourself  that  it  is  true.  How  can  you  think  I 
could  ever  bring  my  heart  to  drive  you  away,  or  even  so 
much  as  reproach  you  ? Oh,  you  don’t  know  what  a true 
man’s  heart  is  made  of,  Nora  ! A man  feels  there  is  some- 
thing indescribably  sweet  and  soothing  in  his  having  for- 
given his  wife,  that  he  has  honestly  forgiven  her  from  the 
bottom  of  his  heart.  She  becomes  his  property  in  a double 
sense,  as  it  were.  She  is  as  though  born  again  ; she  has 


io8 


NORA. 


become  to  a certain  extent  at  once  his  wife  and  his  child. 
And  that  is  what  you  shall  really  be  to  me  henceforth,  you 
ill-advised  and  helpless  darling.  Don’t  be  anxious  about 
anything,  Nora  : only  open  your  heart  to  me,  and  I will 
be  both  will  and  conscience  to  you.  Why,  what’s  this  ? 
Not  gone  to  bed  ? You  have  changed  your  dress. 

Nora  ( entering  in  her  everyday  dress). 

Yes,  Torvald  ; now  I have  changed  my  dress. 

Helmer. 

But  why,  now  it  is  so  late  ? 

Nora. 

I shall  not  sleep  to-night. 

Helmer. 

But,  Nora  dear  . . . 

N ORA  ( looking  at  her  watch). 

It  is  not  so  very  late.  Sit  down  here,  Torvald.  We 
two  have  much  to  say  to  each  other  (she  sits  on  one  side  of 
the  table). 

Helmer. 

Nora,  what  does  that  mean  ? Your  cold,  set  face  ! 

Nora. 

Sit  down  ; it  will  take  some  time.  I have  to  talk  over 
many  things  with  you. 

Helmer  (sitting  opposite  to  her  at  the  table). 

Nora,  you  make  me  anxious  ...  I don’t  in  the  least 
understand  you. 

Nora. 

Just  so.  You  don’t  understand  me.  And  in  the  same 
way  I have  never  understood  you,  till  to-night.  No,  don’t 
interrupt  me.  Only  listen  to  what  I say  . . . This  is  a 
breaking  off,  Torvald. 

Helmer. 


How  do  you  mean  ? 


NORA. 


iog 


Nora  ( after  a short  silence). 

Does  not  one  thing  strike  you  as  we  sit  here  ? 

Helmer. 

What  should  strike  me  ? 

Nora. 

We  have  now  been  married  eight  years.  Does  it  not 
strike  you  that  to-night  for  the  first  time  we  two,  you  and 
I,  husband  and  wife,  are  speaking  together  seriously  ? 

Helmer. 

Well ; ‘ seriously,’  what  does  that  mean  ? 

Nora. 

During  eight  whole  years  and  more,  since  the  day 
we  first  made  each  other’s  acquaintance,  we  have  never 
exchanged  one  serious  word  about  serious  things. 

Helmer. 

Ought  I,  then,  to  have  persistently  initiated  you  into 
difficulties  you  could  not  help  me  by  sharing  ? 

Nora. 

I am  not  talking  of  difficulties.  All  I am  saying  is,  that 
we  have  never  yet  seriously  talked  any  one  thing  over 
together. 

Helmer. 

But,  dearest  Nora,  would  it  have  been  any  good  to  you 
if  we  had  ? 

Nora. 

That  is  the  very  point.  You  have  never  understood 
me.  ...  I have  been  greatly  wronged,  Torvald.  First 
by  father  and  then  by  you. 

Helmer. 

What ! by  us  two,  by  us  two — who  have  loved  you  more 
deeply  than  all  others  have  ? 

N ORA  ( shakes  her  head). 

You  two  have  never  loved  me.  You  only  thought  it 
was  pleasant  to  be  in  love  with  me. 


I IO 


NORA. 


Helmer. 

But,  Nora,  these  are  strange  words. 

Nora. 

Yes  ; it  is  just  so,  Torvald.  While  I was  still  at  home 
with  father,  he  used  to  tell  me  all  his  views,  and  so  of 
course  I held  the  same  views ; if  at  any  time  I had  a 
different  view  I concealed  it,  because  he  would  not  have 
liked  people  with  opinions  of  their  own.  He  used  to  call 
me  his  little  doll,  and  play  with  me,  as  I in  my  turn  used  to 
play  with  my  dolls.  Then  I came  to  live  in  your  house. 

Helmer. 

What  expressions  you  do  use  to  describe  our  marriage  ! 
Nora  ( undisturbed ). 

/I  mean — then  I passed  over  from  father’s  hands  into 
yours.  You  settled  everything  according  to  your  taste  ; 
or  I did  only  what  you  liked;  I don’t  exactly  know.  I 
think  it  was  both  ways,  first  one  and  then  the  other. 
When  I look  back  on  it  now  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I had 
been  living  here  like  a poor  man,  only  from  hand  to 
mouth.  I lived  by  performing  tricks  for  you,  Torvald. 
But  you  would  have  it  so.  You  and  father  have  sinned 
greatly  against  me.  It  is  the  fault  of  you  two  that  nothing 
has  been  made  of  me. 

Helmer. 

How  senseless  and  ungrateful  you  are.  . . Haven't  you 
been  happy  here  ? 

Nora. 

No,  never ; I thought  I was,  but  I never  was. 

Helmer. 

Not  . . . not  happy? 

Nora. 

No;  only  merry.  And  you  were  always  so  friendly 
and  kind  to  me.  But  our  house  has  been  nothing  but 
a nursery.  Here  I have  been  your  doll-wife,  just  as  at 
home  I used  to  be  papa’s  doll-child.  And  my  children 


NORA. 


in 


were,  in  their  turn,  my  dolls.  I was  exceedingly  delighted 
when  you  played  with  me,  just  as  the  children  were  when- 
ever I played  with  them.  That  has  been  our  marriage, 
Torvald. 

H ELMER. 

There  is  some  truth  in  what  you  say,  exaggerated  and 
overdrawn  though  it  may  be.  But  henceforth  it  shall  be 
different.  The  time  for  play  is  gone  by ; now  comes  the 
time  for  education. 

Nora. 

Whose  education — mine  or  the  children’s? 

Helmer. 

Yours,  as  well  as  the  children’s,  dear  Nora. 

Nora. 

Oh,  Torvald,  you  are  not  the  man  to  educate  me  into 
being  the  right  wife  for  you. 

Helmer. 

And  you  say  that  ? 

Nora. 

And  I — how  have  I been  prepared  to  educate  the 
children  ? 

Helmer. 

N ora ! 

Nora. 

Did  you  not  say  just  now  yourself  that  that  was  a task 
you  dared  not  entrust  to  me  ? 

Helmer. 

In  a moment  of  excitement.  How  can  you  lay  any 
stress  upon  that  ? 

Nora. 

No  ; you  were  perfectly  right.  For  that  task  I am  not 
ready.  There  is  another  which  must  be  performed  first. 
I must  first  try  to  educate  myself.  In  that  you  are  not 
the  man  to  help  me.  I must  set  to  work  alone  : you  are 


1 12 


N OB  A. 


not  the  man  to  help  me  with  it.  I must  do  it  alone.  And 
that  is  why  I am  going  away  from  you  now. 

H ELMER  ( jumping  up ). 

What — what  are  you  saying  ? 

Nora. 

I must  be  thrown  entirely  upon  myself  if  I am  to  come 
to  any  understanding  as  to  what  I am  and  what  the  things 
around  me  are  : so  I cannot  stay  with  you  any  longer. 

H ELMER. 

N ora,  N ora  ! 

Nora. 

I shall  now  leave  your  house  at  once.  Christina  will, 
I am  sure,  take  me  in  for  to-night.  . . . 

H ELMER. 

You  are  insane.  I shall  not  allow  that ; I forbid  it. 
Nora. 

From  this  time  it  is  useless  for  you  to  forbid  me  things. 
Whatever  belongs  to  me  I shall  take  with  me.  I will  have 
nothing  from  you  either  now  or  later  on. 

H ELMER. 

What  utter  madness  this  is  ! 

N ORA. 

To-morrow  I shall  go  home — I mean  to  my  birthplace. 
There  it  will  be  easier  for  me  to  get  something  to  do  of 
one  sort  or  another. 


H ELMER. 

Oh,  you  blind,  inexperienced  creature  ! 

Nora. 

I must  try  to  gain  experience,  Torvald. 

H ELMER. 

To  forsake  your  home,  your  husband,  and  your  children  ! 
And  only  think  what  people  will  say  about  it. 


NORA. 


1 13 


N ORA. 

I cannot  take  that  into  consideration.  I only  know 
that  to  go  is  necessary  for  me. 

H ELMER. 

Oh,  it  drives  one  wild  ! Is  this  the  way  you  can  evade 
your  holiest  duties  ? 

Nora. 

What  do  you  consider  my  holiest  duties  ? 

Helmer. 

Do  I need  to  tell  you  that  ? Are  they  not  your  duties 
to  your  husband  and  your  children  ? 

Nora. 

I have  other  duties  equally  sacred. 


Helmer. 

No,  you  have  not.  What  duties  do  you  mean  ? 
Nora. 

Duties  towards  myself. 

Helmer. 

Before  all  else  you  are  a wife  and  mother. 


J 


Nora. 

I no  longer  think  so.  I think  that  before  all  else  I am 
a human  being  just  as  you  are,  or  at  least  I will  try  to 
become  one.  I know  very  well  that  most  people  agree 
with  you,  Torvald,  and  what  is  to  be  found  in  books. 
But  I cannot  be  satisfied  any  longer  with  what  most 
people  say,  and  with  what  is  in  books.  I must  think  over 
things  for  myself,  and  try  to  get  clear  about  them. 

Helmer. 

Is  it  possible  you  are  not  clear  about  your  position  in 
your  own  family  ? Have  you  not  in  questions  like  these  a 
guide  who  cannot  err  ? Have  you  not  religion  ? 


NORA. 


1 14 


Nora. 

Oh,  Torvald,  I don’t  know  what  religion  is. 

Helmer. 

What  are  you  saying  ? 

Nora. 

I know  nothing  but  what  our  clergyman  told  me  when 
I was  confirmed.  He  explained  that  religion  was  this  and 
that.  When  I have  got  quite  away  from  here,  and  am  all 
by  myself,  then  I will  examine  that  matter  too.  I will 
see  whether  what  our  clergyman  taught  is  true ; or,  at 
any  rate,  whether  it  is  true  for  me. 

Helmer. 

Who  ever  heard  such  things  from  a young  wife’s  lips  ? 
But  if  religion  cannot  lead  you  to  the  right,  let  me  appeal 
to  your  conscience  : for  I suppose  you  have  some  moral 
feeling  ? Or,  answer  me,  perhaps  you  have  none  ? 

Nora. 

Well,  Torvald,  I think  I had  better  not  answer  you.  I 
really  don’t  know.  About  those  things  I am  not  at  all 
clear.  I only  know  that  I have  quite  a different  opinion 
about  them  from  yours.  I have  now  learnt  too  that  the 
laws  are  different  from  what  I thought  they  were ; but  I 
can’t  convince  myself  that  they  are  right.  It  appears  that 
a woman  has  no  right  to  spare  her  father  trouble  when  he 
is  old  and  dying,  or  to  save  her  husband’s  life.  I don’t 
believe  that. 

Helmer. 

You  talk  like  a child.  You  don’t  understand  the  society 
in  which  you  live. 

Nora. 

No,  no  more  I do.  But  now  I will  set  to  work  and 
learn  it.  I must  make  up  my  mind  whether  society  is 
right  or  whether  I am. 

Helmer. 

Nora,  you  are  ill,  you  are  feverish  ; I almost  think  you 
are  out  of  your  senses. 


NORA. 


”5 


Nora. 

I never  felt  so  clear  and  certain  about  things  as  I feel 
to-night. 

Helmer. 

And  feeling  clear  and  certain,  you  forsake  husband  and 
children  ? 

Nora. 

Yes ; I do. 

Helmer. 

Then  there  is  only  one  possible  explanation  of  it. 

Nora. 

What  is  that  ? 

Helmer. 

You  no  longer  love  me. 

Nora. 

No  ; that  is  just  the  thing. 

Helmer. 

N ora  ! . . . Can  you  bring  yourself  to  say  so  ? 

Nora. 

Oh,  I’m  so  sorry,  Torvald;  for  you  have  always  been 
so  kind  to  me.  But  I can't  help  it.  I do  not  love  you 
any  longer. 

Helmer  ( keeping  his  composure  with  difficulty ). 

Is  this  another  of  the  things  you  are  clear  and  certain 
about  ? 

Nora. 

Yes,  quite.  That  is  why  I will  not  stay  here  any 
longer. 

Helmer. 

And  can  you  also  explain  to  me  how  I have  lost  your 
love  ? 


1 16 


NORA. 


Nora. 

Yes  ; I can.  It  was  this  evening  when  the  miracle  did 
not  happen  ; for  it  was  then  I saw  you  were  not  the  man 
I had  taken  you  for. 

Helmer. 

Explain  yourself  more  ; I don’t  understand. 

Nora. 

I have  waited  so  patiently  all  these  eight  years ; for, 
indeed,  I saw  well  enough  that  miracles  do  not  happen 
every  day.  Then  this  trouble  broke  over  my  head,  and 
then  I was  so  firmly  convinced  that  now  the  miracle  must 
be  at  hand.  When  Krogstad’s  letter  lay  in  the  box  out- 
side, the  thought  never  once  occurred  to  me  that  you  could 
allow  yourself  to  submit  to  the  conditions  of  such  a man. 
I was  so  firmly  convinced  that  you  would  say  to  him, 
“ Pray  make  the  affair  known  to  all  the  world  ; ” and  when 
that  had  been  done.  . . 

Helmer. 

Well  ? And  when  I had  given  my  own  wife’s  name  up 
to  disgrace  and  shame  ? 

Nora. 

When  that  had  been  done,  then  you  would,  as  I firmly 
believed,  stand  before  the  world,  take  everything  upon 
yourself,  and  say,  6 1 am  the  guilty  person.’ 

Helmer. 

Nora ! 

Nora. 

You  mean  I should  never  have  accepted  such  a sacrifice 
from  you?  No  ; certainly  not.  But  what  would  my  asser- 
tions have  been  worth  compared  with  yours  ? That  was 
the  miracle  that  I hoped  and  feared.  And  it  was  to  hinder 
that  that  I wanted  to  put  an  end  to  my  life. 

Helmer. 

I would  gladly  work  for  you,  day  and  night,  Nora, 
bear  sorrow  and  trouble  for  your  sake  ; but  no  man 
sacrifices  his  honour  to  a person  he  loves. 


NORA. 


ii  7 


Nora. 

That  is  what  millions  of  women  have  done. 

Helmer. 

Oh,  you  think  and  talk  like  a silly  child. 

Nora. 

Very  likely.  But  you  neither  think  nor  speak  like  the 
man  I could  be  one  with.  When  your  terror  was  over, — 
not  for  what  threatened  me,  but  for  what  involved  you, — 
and  when  there  was  nothing  more  to  fear,  then  it  was  in 
your  eyes  as  though  nothing  whatever  had  happened.  I 
was  just  as  much  as  ever  your  lark,  your  doll,  whom  you 
would  take  twice  as  much  care  of  in  future  because  she  was 
so  weak  and  frail  ( stands  up').  Torvald,  in  that  moment  it 
became  clear  to  me  that  I had  been  living  here  ail  these 
years  with  a strange  man  and  had  borne  him  three  children. 
Oh,  I cannot  bear  to  think  of  it.  I could  tear  myself  to 
pieces  ! 

Helmer  [sadly). 

I see  it,  I see  it : a chasm  has  opened  between  us.  . . . 
But,  Nora,  can  it  never  be  filled  up  ? 

Nora. 

As  I now  am  I am  no  wife  for  you. 

Helmer. 

I am  strong  enough  to  become  another  man. 

Nora. 

Perhaps,  when  your  doll  is  taken  away  from  you. 

Helmer. 

Part— part  from  you!  No,  Nora,  no;  I cannot 
grasp  it. 


Nora  [going  into  the  right  room). 

The  more  reason  for  it  to  happen.  ( She  comes  in  with 
her  walking  things  and  a small  travelling  bag,  which  she 
puts  on  the  chair  by  the  table.) 


1 1 8 ' 


NORA. 


Helmer. 

Nora,  Nora,  not  now.  Wait  till  to-morrow. 

N ORA  [putting  on  her  cloak). 

I cannot  spend  the  night  in  the  house  of  a man  who  is 
a stranger  to  me. 

Helmer. 

But  can’t  we  live  here  as  brother  and  sister  ? 

N ORA  ( tying  her  bonnet  tightly). 

You  know  quite  well  that  would  not  last  long  [puts  her 
shawl  on).  Good-bye,  Torvald.  I will  not  see  the 
children  before  I go.  I know  they  are  in  better  hands 
than  mine.  As  I now  am  I can  be  nothing  to  them. 

Helmer. 

But  later,  Nora — later  on  ? 


Nora. 

How  can  I tell  ? I have  no  idea  what  will  become 
of  me. 

Helmer. 

But  you  are  my  wife — both  as  you  are  now  and  as  you 
will  become. 


Nora. 

Listen,  Torvald.  When  a wife  leaves  her  husband’s 
house,  as  I am  doing,  then  I have  heard  he  is  free  from  all 
duties  towards  her  in  the  eyes  of  the  law.  At  any  rate,  I 
release  you  from  all  duties.  You  must  feel  yourself  no 
more  bound  by  anything  than  I feel.  There  must  be 
perfect  freedom  on  both  sides.  There,  there  is  your  ring 
back.  Give  me  mine. 


That  too  ? 
That  too. 


Helmer. 

Nora. 


Here  it  is. 


Helmer. 


NORA. 


1 19 


Nora. 

Very  well.  Yes  ; now  it  is  all  past  and  gone.  Here,  I 
lay  the  keys  down.  The  maids  know  how  to  manage  every- 
thing in  the  house  far  better  than  I do.  To-morrow, 
when  I have  started  on  my  journey,  Christina  will  come 
in  order  to  pack  up  the  few  things  that  are  my  own.  They 
will  be  sent  after  me. 

Helmer. 

Past  and  gone  ! Nora,  will  you  never  think  of  me 
again  ? 

Nora. 

Certainly.  I shall  think  very  often  of  you  and  the 
children  and  this  house. 


Helmer. 

May  I write  to  you,  Nora? 

Nora. 

No,  never.  You  must  not. 

PI  ELMER. 

But  I may  send  you  what  . . . 

Nora. 

Nothing,  nothing. 

Helmer. 

Help  you  when  you  are  in  need  ? 

Nora. 

No,  I say.  I take  nothing  from  strangers. 


Helmer. 

Nora,  can  I never  become  to  you  anything  but  a 
stranger  ? 

N ora  ( taking  her  travelling  bag  sadly). 

The  greatest  miracle  of  all  would  have  to  happen  then, 
Torvald. 


120 


NORA. 


* Helmer. 

Tell  me  what  the  greatest  miracle  is. 

Nora. 

We  both  should  need  to  change  so,  you  as  well  as  I,  that 
— Oh,  Torvald,  I no  longer  believe  in  anything  miraculous. 

Helmer. 

But  I believe  in  it.  Tell  me.  We  must  so  change 
that  . . . 

Nora. 

That  our  living  together  could  be  a marriage.  Good- 
bye. ( She  goes  out  through  the  hall.) 

Helmer  ( sinks  in  a chair  by  the  door  with  his  hands 
before  his  face'). 

Nora,  Nora  ! (He  looks  round  and sta7ids  up.)  Empty. 
She  isn’t  here  now.  ( A hope  inspires  him.)  The  greatest 
miracle  ! (Below-stairs  a door  is  heard  shutting  ominously 
in  the  lock.) 


THE  END. 


BUNGAY  : CLAY  AND  TAYLOR,  PRINTER. 

2 m.  11.82.  V.  T. 


c 


UNIVER9ITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBAN  A 


12  042065 


90 


